%M\r& 


TO  THE  LIBRARIAN: 


K  „.  JH!8  Antl-Secre«y  Library  is  donated 
by  the  National  Christian  Association,  on  the 
surance  given  on  the  part  of  the  College, 
that  the  books  should  have  a  good  position 
and  he  accessible  to  the  students. 

If  at  any  time  changes  should  occur,  so  that 
these    provisions    could    not    be    carried  out 
Please   notify  the  National  Christian  Associ  - 
ation.321  West  Madison  Street,  Chicago,  111 
that  measures  may  be  taken  for  their  reiurn 


LIBRARY 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 


Deceived  .  i8c} 

CA/ss  No. 


BETWEEN  TWO  OPINIONS 


OR, 


THE    QUESTION    OF    THE     HOUR 

BY 

E.  E.  FLAGG, 

AUTHOR  OP  "HOLDEN  WITH  CORDS,"  "LITTLE  PEOPLE," 
"A  SUNNY  LIFE." 


Hast  thou  chosen,  0  my  people,  on  whose  party 

thou  shalt  stand, 
Ere  the  doom  from  its  worn  sandals  shakes  the 

dust  against  our  land? 
Thongh  the  cause  of  evil  prosper,  yet  'tis  truth 

alone  is  strong. 

LOWELL. 


CHICAGO: 

NATIONAL   CHRISTIAN   ASSOCIATION, 

1885. 


Entered  according  to  act  of  Congress  in  the  year  1884 

BY  THE  NATIONAL  CHRISTIAN  ASSOCIATION, 
In  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress  at  Washington,  D.  C. 


TO  DEA.  DECREASE  LEADBETTER 

AND  HIS  FAITHFUL  COMPANION 
IN  HIS  LIFE-LONG  WARFARE  AGAINST  THE  SECRET  LODGE, 

THIS    VOLUME 

IS  GRATEFULLY  DEDICATED. 


PEEFACE. 


The  writer  is  aware  that  the  present  volume  boldly 
contradicts  a  certain  popular  and  most  mischievous 
fallacy  which  seems  to  date  its  origin  from  the  time 
when  the  anti-slavery  struggle  for  a  quarter  of  a  cen 
tury  kept  every  other  great  question  in  abeyance; 
namely,  that  there  is  room  in  American  politics  for 
only  one  reform  at  a  time 

It  is  true  that  both  the  Anti-masonic  uprising  of 
1829,  and  the  temperance  movement  a  few  years  later 
went  down  like  driftwood  in  the  tide  of  excited  feel 
ing  which  followed  the  labors  of  the  first  Abolition 
ists  ;  but  they  who  would  make  out  of  this  fact  a  prec 
edent  for  all  future  time  forget  that  we  have  entered 
on  a  new  era  with  totally  changed  conditions,  and 
every  branch  of  reform  work  has  taken  a  correspond 
ing  impetus 

With  a  nation  composed  partly  of  slaves  and  partly 
of  freemen,  or  even  an  unreconstructed  South  as  it  ex 
isted  just  after  the  war,  there  could  be  no  adequate 
settlement  of  these  great  questions  now  pressing  to 
the  front.  But,  given  a  nation  emancipated  forever 
from  the  curse  of  human  bondage,  sectional  lines 
obliterated,  and  a  North  and  South  as  united  in  fra 
ternal  bonds  as  the  East  and  the  West,  and  every 
plank  in  the  platforms  of  our  various  reform  parties 
becomes  a  sublime  possibility.  The  logic  of  events  is 
fast  teaching  us  this  truth.  Side  by  side  with  the  pro- 


V  PREFACE. 

hibition  of  the  drink  traffic  comes  the  labor  problem, 
the  Sabbath  question,  the  rights  of  the  Indians  and  the 
Chinese.  Is  it  the  part  of  enlightened  philanthropy 
or  honest  patriotism,  or  true  Christianity  to  bid  these 
evils  all  stand  to  one  side  while  we  grapple  with  the 
more  gigantic  and  deadly  wrong  of  intemperance  ?  Is 
it  not  time  to  widen  our  scope  both  of  vision  and 
action '?  We  cannot  safely  ignore  the  least  important 
of  the  many  evils  now  threatening  society,  for  as  a 
certain  French  writer  very  truly  observes,  "Errors  are 
always  friends  and  ready  for  a  mutual  embrace."  It 
is  in  the  closeness  of  that  embrace  that  the  secret  of 
their  strength  lies,  and  only  when  Christians  unite  in 
one  combined  onset  against  all  evil,  shall  we  see  na 
tional  reform  inaugurated  on  a  permanent  basis.  The 
Woman's  Christian  Temperance  Union,  with  its  vari 
ous  departments  of  labor,  many  of  which  lie  outside 
of  pure  temperance  work,  while  all  converge  to  one 
common  end — the  extirpation  of  the  liquor  traffic — is 
already  acting  upon  this  truth  with  results  that  cause 
saints  and  angels  to  rejoice,  and  time-serving  politi 
cians  to  tremble. 

But  if  the  Drink  question  has  a  very  intimate  con 
nection,  morally  and  economically  considered,  with 
most  of  the  social  problems  that  now  trouble  philan 
thropists,  shall  we  shut  our  eyes  to  the  fact  that  there 
is  still  another  issue  as  closely  related  to  the  rum  traf 
fic  as  the  rum  traffic  itself  is  to  that  fountain  of  crime 
which  feeds  our  police  courts  and  penitentiaries  ? 

The  American  party  alone  has  recognized  the  subtle 
power  of  Masonry,  and  those  secret  societies  of  which 
it  is  the  mother,  to  uphold  with  unseen  hand  the  sa 
loon  and  its  kindred  evils.  But  many  honest  Prohibi 
tionists,  even  among  those  who  hate  the  lodge  from 
the  bottom  of  their  hearts,  are  yet  inclined  to  compro 
mise  ;  to  say,  "Let  us  kill  intemperance,  and  then  we 
will  attack  the  lodge." 


PREFACE.  VI 

The  writer  has  attempted  in  the  following  pages  to 
show  the  fallacy  of  such  a  position ;  nor  has  she  drawn 
on  imagination  for  her  incidents.  They  are  without 
exception  matters  of  fact,  and  scarcely  any  observing 
mind  who  has  carefully  noted  the  workings  of  Secret- 
ism  in  its  relations  to  Temperance  could  fail  to  gather 
a  store  of  similar  material 

The  Temperance  warfare  has  now  lasted  for  half  a 
century.  Is  it  not  time  for  all  true  Prohibitionists  to 
unite  against  the  secret  foe  which  has  so  many  times 
betrayed  them?  Is  it  not  time  to  drop  forever  the 
narrow  and  one-sided  notion  that  evils  must  be  at 
tacked  singly,  and,  by  one  grand,  Napoleonic  onslaught 
on  the  enemy's  whole  line  of  battle,  usher  in  the 
longed-for  day  of  social  purity  and  national  righteous 
ness? 

This  can  be  rendered  practicable  only  by  a  party  with 
a  platform  made  up  entirely  of  moral  issues ;  which 
recognizes  God  as  the  true  Governor  of  the  nations, 
and  his  laws  as  the  one  enduring  basis  on  which  to 
found  the  structure  of  our  republican  liberty.  United 
to  such  a  party,  American  freemen  need  no  longer 
"halt  between  two  opinions,"  but  can  cast  their  ballots 
equally  against  the  lodge  and  the  saloon,  thus  striking 
a  deadly  blow  to  both  monsters  which  shall  soon  con 
sign  them  to  the  same  unwept  grave,  among  the  dead 
issues  of  the  past. 


CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER.  PAGE. 

I. — A  SON  OP  THE  PURITANS.  , 1 

II. — A  RELIGION    THAT    is    BETTER   THAN 

CHRISTIANITY 8 

III.— WITHIN  THE  CIRCLE 17 

IV. — STEPHEN  ROWLAND'S  FIRST  CASE.    ...  30 

V.— OPINIONS  OP  A  W.  C.  T.  U 49 

VI. — LOAVES  AND  FISHES 69 

VII. — A  NEW  FACTOR  IN  POLITICS 93 

VIII. — MARTIN  TREWORTHY  ON  HUMBUGS 111 

IX. — A  NEW  KIND  OP  MACHINE 126 

X.— THE  QUESTION  is  MET  FACE  TO  FACE.  .  135 

XI. — HISTORY  AND  PROPHECY 151 

XII. — THE  YOKE  OP  BONDAGE 163 

XIII. — CERTAIN  CHARACTERS  IN  THE   STORY 

GET  "MORE  LIGHT" 171 

XIV.— JACKSONVILLE  REAPS  THE  WHIRLWIND.  183 

XV.— A  MODERN  PUBLICAN 201 

XVI.— DRIVEN  FORTH 212 

XVII.— KILKENNY  CATS 218 

XVIII.— NABOTH 226 

XIX.— THE  GOOD  SAMARITAN  . .  239 


CONTENTS.  Viii 

XX.— TOM'S  DREAM  COMES  TRUE 251 

XXL— MARTHA  AND  NELSON 265 

XXII.— UNCLE  ZEE  TRIES  A  MASONIC  EXPERI 
MENT  WITH  UNLOCKED  FOR  SUCCESS  .  .  269 

XXIII.— A  PECULIAR  KIND  OP  MORALITY  AND 

BENEVOLENCE 280 

XXIV.— IN  RAMAH  WAS  THERE  A  VOICE  HEARD.  294 

XXV.  —Two  WAYS  OP  ASKING  A  QUESTION 301 

XXVL— THE  TRUE  LIGHT  SHINETH 309 

XXVII.  —  THE  AVENGER 335 

XXVIII. —VENGEANCE  is  MINE 341 

XXIX.— GOING  DOWN  INTO  EGYPT 352 

XXX.— LODGE  AND  SALOON 356 

XXXL— A  LIQUOR  MOB 361 

XXXII.— THE  LEADER  ON  THE  WHITE  HORSE  ...  369 

XXXTTT — THE  CONCLUSION  OF  THE  MATTER 381 


BETWEEN  TWO  OPINIONS: 

OR 

THE    QUESTION    OF    THE    HOUR, 


CHAPTER  I. 

A  SON  OF  THE  PURITANS. 

His  birthplace  was  an  old-fashioned  farmhouse 
among  the  New  Hampshire  hills;  his  parents  an 
equally  old-fashioned  couple  who  believed  in  keeping 
the  Sabbath,  doing  right  by  their  neighbors  and  op 
posing  evil  wherever  the}*  found  it.  This  uncompro 
mising  type  of  Christianity,  in  the  case  of  the  How- 
lands,  seemed  to  be  hereditary,  descending  from 
father  to  son  in  true  apostolic  succession.  The  How- 
land  from  whom  the  family  dated  its  beginning  was 
a  Puritan  clergyman,  who,  falling  under  the  ban  of 
the  Star  Chamber  a  few  years  before  King  Charles 
lost  his  head,  sought  for  liberty  of  conscience  in  the 
colonies;  but  for  all  practical  purposes  of  this  histo 
ry  we  need  not  go  farther  back  than  Josiah  Howland, 
the  sixth  in  lineal  descent;  a  plain,  hard-working  son 
of  the  soil,  a  good  farmer  and  a  good  citizen,  but 


2  Between   Two   Opinions. 

with  nothing  about  him  that  distinguished  him  to 
common  eyes  from  the  great  mass  of  his  fellow-men. 

Though  the  family  line  boasted  one  or  two  judges, 
to  say  nothing  of  a  score  of  ministers  and  deacons, 
Josiah  Howland  had  never  seemed  to  feel  any  earth 
ly  ambition  beyond  the  desire  to  raise  good  crops  and 
stand  well  with  the  world.  He  read  much,  .especially 
his  Bible;  prayed  much  and  talked  little.  He  never 
sought  office,  nor  did  office  come  to  him;  his  voice 
was  never  heard  in  town  meetings  or  caucuses,  yet  it 
was  a  common  expression  with  his  neighbors  that 
"though  Josiah  Howland  never  seems  to  say  or  do 
much,  there  isn't  another  man  in  the  township  that 
would  be  missed  more", — which  is,  after  all,  the  high 
est  tribute  that  can  be  paid  to  any  of  us  when  we 
leave  our  earthly  places  vacant  forever. 

He  had  married  early  in  life  his  second  cousin, 
Phoebe  Howland,  a  woman  who  combined  with  sound 
common  sense  and  great  practical  energy  of  charac 
ter,  a  deep,  almost  mystical  type  of  piety.  Had  her 
lot  been  cast  among  the  Quakers  she  might  have  de 
veloped  into  a  female  preacher,  but  rather  being  born 
among  those  whose  traditions  and  practice  were  all 
against  a  woman's  voice  being  heard  in  any  public 
assembly,  the  gift  was  stifled  without  anybody's  sus 
pecting  its  existence.  Still,  she  was  considered  an 
uncommon  girl;  and  when,  instead  of  marrying  a 
minister  or  foreign  missionary,  she  quietly  united 
her  lot  for  better  or  worse  with  a  plain  farmer,  many 
people  laid  her  choice  to  oddity;  but  Phoebe  had  no 
more  of  this  than  is  common  to  human  nature.  The 


.4  Son  of  the  Puritans.  3 

fact  was  she  had  a  very  keen  spiritual  insight  and 
saw  what  other  people  did  not  see — that  Josiah  How- 
land,  slow  of  speech  and  with  none  of  the  varnish 
of  the  universities  upon  him,  had  the  soul  of  one  of 
God's  princes  who  walk  the  earth  encompassed  with 
an  invisible  royalty. 

Such  a  couple  would  not  fail  to  give  their  children 
religious  training,  and  the  best  education  their  means 
could  afford.  One  of  their  sons,  at  the  time  our  story 
begins,  was  pastor  of  a  small  country  church,  while 
the  second  was  teaching,  with  prospects  of  a  profes 
sorship.  But  the  youngest  boy.  Stephen,  was  a  se 
cret  disappointment  to  both  their  hearts,  especially 
his  mother's.  She  had  rejoiced  with  trembling  over 
his  queer,  wise  sayings  when  a  little  child,  his  strange 
questionings  into  the  infinite  mysteries  of  the  life 
beyond,  seeing  in  every  new  sign  of  spiritual  pre 
cocity,  that  made  old  gossips  shake  their  heads  with 
lugubrious  prophecies  of  an  early  grave,  only  another 
gracious  indication  that  the  Lord  had  heard  her 
prayer  as  he  did  Hannah's,  and  her  youngest  and 
favorite  son  might  yet  prove  a  second  Samuel  called 
of  Grod  from  his  birth.  He  had  passed  an  exemplary 
boyhood  and  youth  without  the  sowing  of  a  single 
crop  of  wild  oats,  but  when  it  came  to  the  choice  of 
a  profession,  instead  of  treading  in  the  steps  of  his 
elder  brother,  he  shattered  all  her  motherly  dream- 
ings  and  sorely  confounded  his  father  by  declaring 
his  intention  to  be  a  lawyer. 

Now  this  good  Puritan  farmer  had  about  as  poor 
an  opinion  of  lawyers  as  is  anyway  consistent  with 


4  Between    Two   Opinions. 

Christian  charity.  He  believed  that,  -like  the  Cretans 
of  old,  they  were  "always  liars",  busybodies,  med 
dling  with  other  men's  matters,  keeping  up  quarrels 
'between  friends  and  neighbors  just  to  fill  their  own 
pockets,  and  browbeating  bewildered  witnesses  till 
they  were  ready  to  say  black  was  white  and  white 
was  black.  Did  not  even  the  Bible  say,  "  Woe  unto 
you  lawyers"? 

But  Stephen  had  fortified  himself  beforehand 
against  all  probable  and  improbable  objections  to  his 
chosen  career.  He  reminded  his  father  that  the 
Scriptures  made  honorable  mention  of  "Zenas  the 
lawj^er";  that  even  if  these  things  were  all  true  of 
the  profession  generally,  the  more  need  that  good 
men  should  enter  its  ranks;  that,  for  himself,  he 
would  not  stoop  to  any  mean  pettifoggery  to  win  the 
most  important  case;  that  he  meant  to  be  always  on 
the  side  of  justice,  the  champion  of  the  weak  and 
oppressed  against  the  powerful  and  strong;  he  quoted 
the  resounding  and  classical  words  of  Hooper:  "Law 
hath  her  seat  in  the  bosom  of  Gk>d";  and,  in  short, 
he  argued  the  matter  with  a  skill  and  fluency  that 
promised  great  things  for  his  future  clients,  and  even 
staggered  Mr.  Josiah  Rowland  not  a  little. 

He  put  some  more  wood  into  the  kitchen  stove, 
over  which  he  was  sitting,  and  by  that  time  he  re 
covered  the  ideas  which  had  been  nearly  swept  away 
in  the  rush  of  his  son's  eloquence;  very  old-fashioned 
ideas  they  were,  and  obtained  from  a  very  old-fash 
ioned  book,  but  not  yet  obsolete  in  the  quiet  hill 
districts  of  New  England. 


A  Son  of  the  Puritans.  5 

"Now,  Stephen,  I  want  you  to  be  an  honest  man, 
and  then  I  don't  care  what  else  you  are.  I  don't  care 
how  rich,  or  how  smart,  or  how  famous  anybody  is 
that  ain't  honest,  and  it's  next  to  impossible  to  be  an 
honest  lawyer.  It  may  be  there  are  some  that  are, 
but  it  is  like  the  camel  going  through  the  needle's 
eye.  or  the  rich  man  entering  heaven — a  hard  rub. 
To  be  sure,  the  Bible  tells  us  that  what  is  impossible 
with  men  is  possible  with  God.  But  we  ain't  to  be 
presumptuous.  Because  a  thing  is  possible  with  God 
is  no  reason  why  we  should  always  reckon  on  his 
doing  it  for  us." 

There  was  an  unpolished  logic  in  the  words  of  the 
elder  Howland  which  the  younger  found  it  hard  to 
gainsay,  but  he  had  as  yet  advanced  only  a  little  way 
in  that  knowledge  which  an  old  heathen  has  some 
where  declared  to  be  the  highest  a  man  can  acquire 
— "know  thyself/'  So  he  accepted  his  father's  last 
remark  with  some  slight  amendments — that  because 
a  thing  was  impossible  with  the  majority  of  men,  it 
by  no  means  followed  that  it  was  not  very  possible 
and  easy  with  Stephen  Howland. 

"Well,  father,  I  must  say  as  I  have  said  before,  I 
don't  see  why  a  really  honest  man  should  find  it 
difficult  to  keep  his  honesty  under  any  circumstances. 
The  world  needs  lawyers,  and  the  question  is,  what 
kind  it  shall  have.  Shall  we  leave  it  to  the  base  and 
tricky  to  expound  our  national  and  State  laws?  to 
defend  the  innocent  and  unmask  the  guilty?  to  sit 
in  the  places  of  Story,  and  Wirt,  and  Marshall? 
Shall  we  have  jurists  on  the  bench,  or  charlatans?" 


6  Between   Two   Opinions. 

"I've  had  my  say,  Stephen.  You've  got  my  mind 
about  it,"  was  his  father's  only  response  to  this 
grandly  sounding  speech.  "Now  it  is  time  we  heard 
your  mother's." 

Mrs.  Phoebe  Rowland  had  not  joined  in  the  debate, 
and  even  at  this  direct  appeal  continued  her  work  of 
paring  and  coring  apples  as  if  she  had  not  heard  it 
at  all.  One  who  did  not  know  her  would  have 
thought  her  indifferent  to  the  subject;  but  the  truth 
was  she  was  a  woman  who  never  spoke  hastily  when 
any  important  matter  was  under  discussion,  and  the 
more  deeply  her  personal  feelings  were  engaged, 
either  pro  or  con,  as  in  the  present  instance,  the  more 
firmly  did  she  hold  by  the  rule  which  in  her  girlhood 
she  had  written  out  with  a  list  of  other  resolutions 
by  which  to  guide  her  daily  conduct.  It  ran  as  fol 
lows:  "Resolved,  when  my  mind  is  not  clear  on  any 
point  affecting  another's  duty,  never  to  open  my 
lips  until  I  feel  that  God  has  given  me  something  to 
say."  No  wonder  that  in  her  family  this  Puritan 
woman  was  queen,  sybil,  prophetess;  that  there  was 
a  deep,  sweet  gravity  in  her  lightest  speech,  as  of 
one  who  lived  in  the  constant  hearing  of  heavenly 
oracles. 

So  father  and  son  waited,  the  one  in  reverential, 
the  other  in  eager  silence.  Five,  ten  minutes  passed, 
and  but  for  the  monotonous  leaping  of  the  quarters 
of  apple  into  the  bright  tin  pan  in  her  lap,  it  would 
have  been  still  enough  for  a  Quaker  meeting.  Then 
she  spoke: 

"It  may  be,  father,  that  God  has  called  Stephen  to 


A  Son  of  the  Puritans.  7 

be  a  lawyer,  and  what  are  we  that  we  should  with 
stand  his  voice?  I  onh~  want  him  to  be  fully  per 
suaded  in  his  own  mind." 

The  point  was  settled.  This  Puritan  couple,  with 
their  simple  honesty,  their  unworldh'  faith  in  God 
and  each  other,  had  solved  the  vexed  question  of 
household  supremacy  without  quarreling  with  either 
Peter  or  Paul.  Mrs.  Phoebe  Howland  believed  im- 
plicitl}'  that  her  husband  was  the  best  man  in  the 
world,  and  though  she  had  all  the  refinement  and 
most  of  the  book  knowledge,  she  gloried  in  the 
rough-barked  oak.  Mr.  Josiah  Howland,  on  his  part, 
looked  on  "mother"  as  a  superior  being  who  held 
constant  communion  with  the  unseen  and  the  eternal; 
he  followed  reverently  in  the  path  of  her  lightest 
opinion,  and  would  no  more  have  thought  of  calling 
in  question  anything  she  said  after  one  of  those  long, 
sacred  "silences,"  than  Dante  would  have  thought  of 
contending  with  Beatrice  about  the  right  road  to 
Paradise. 

It  was  under  these  circumstances  that  Stephen  be 
came  a  student  in  the  law  office  of  Judge  Howland, 
a  distant  relative  of  his  father's,  where  he  remained 
the  customary  period;  then,  a  full-fledged  young  bar 
rister,  he  opened  a  tiny  office  in  a  new-made  Western 
city,  hung  out  his  sign,  and  waited  for  fortune  to 
chance  that  way. 


CHAPTER  II. 

IN  WHICH  THE    READER   IS    SHOWN   A  RELIGION  THAT 
IS    BETTER   THAN    CHRISTIANITY. 

Stephen  Howland  was  waiting  for  clients  with 
what  patience  he  could  muster  one  raw,  cloudy, 
chilly  day,  when  he  heard  the  welcome  sound  of  feet 
pausing  at  his  door,  and  a  stranger  entered  who 
wanted  a  deed  drawn  up. 

Even  so  trifling  a  job  as  the  drawing  up  of  a  legal 
paper  the  young  attorney  did  not  consider  despicable 
at  the  present  low  ebb  in  his  affairs  and  spirits.  So 
he  proceeded  at  once  to  write  the  required  instru 
ment.  The  stranger,  whose  name  was  put  therein 
as  Felix  Basset,  had  apparently  reached  five  and 
forty,  was  good-looking,  well  dressed,  and  agreeable; 
a  man  evidently  on  the  best  possible  terms  with 
himself,  as  could  be  seen  by  the  air  of  self-posses 
sion  with  which  he  took  a  seat  and  let  his  eye  roam 
over  the  rather  meagre  appointments  of  the  little 
office,  in  a  way  that  seemed  to  render  superfluous 
any  answer  to  his  careless  inquiry,  "How  goes  busi 
ness  with  you,  Mr.  Howland?" 

"I  haven't  been  troubled  with  any  rush  of  clients 
as  yet,"  returned  Stephen,  rather  dryly. 

"Well,  I  suppose  not.  A  law}rer's  practice  is  like 
Rome.  It  can't  be  built  up  in  a  day.  But  some 
men  make  a  life-job  of  success,  and  never  get  fairly 
onto  their  feet.  I  don't  believe  in  that,  because  I 


Better  Than  Christianity.  9 

think  there  is  no  need  of  it.  We  are  fast  learning 
the  truth  that  mankind  are  brothers,  and  as  a  conse 
quence  there  are  organizations  in  eveiy  city  and 
town  founded  on  this  idea,  and  anybody  that  wants 
to  get  on  in  the  world  should  join  one  of  these. 
Xow.  I  started  in  life  with  scarcely  a  dollar  in  my 
pocket,  and  I  shall  always  say  that  I  owe  more  of 
my  success  in  business  to  having  joined  the  Odd-fel 
lows  than  to  all  other  causes  combined." 

Stephen  only  said,  -Indeed!"  but  Mr.  Felix  Bas 
set  was  too  full  of  his  subject  to  need  any  other  en 
couragement  to  go  on. 

•'Yes;  I  consider  Odd-fellowship  by  all  odds  the 
best  order  that  a  young  man  can  enter.  It  is  a  sys 
tem  of  the  most  rigid  morality  as  well  as  the  most 
perfect  benevolence.  It  is  even  better  in  some  re 
spects  than  the  church  itself." 

Stephen  had  grown  up  with  that  idea  of  the  Chris 
tian  church  which  still  prevails  in  some  guileless 
souls,  as  the  pure  and  spotless  Bride,  clothed  with 
the  sun  and  crowned  with  stars;  persecuted,  yet  full 
of  divine  vitalhy  that  could  triumph  over  all  the 
fury  of  her  dragon  foe;  before  whose  mighty  tread 
every  idol  should  fall,  every  superstition  crumble, 
every  wrong  flee  away,  and  the  renovated,  purified 
earth  become  once  more  a  fit  dwelling-place  for  Eter 
nal  Love.  It  was  no  wonder  then  that  he  gave  a  lit 
tle  start,  and  fixed  his  eyes  inquiringly  on  Mr  Bas 
set.  Both  movements  were  observed  by  that  gentle 
man,  who  made  haste  accordingly  to  define  his  opin 
ions  with  more  strictness. 


10  Between  Two  Opinions. 

"I  see  you  are  surprised  to  hear  me  say  so,  but  it 
is  the  truth,  and  the  truth  ought  to  be  spoken  even 
when  it  cuts  the  wrong  way.  The  Odd-fellows  take 
care  of  their  sick  and  poor.  What  does  the  church 
do  for  hers?  Why,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten  she  just 
lets  them  alone  to  suffer  and  die,  or  be  thrown  on 
public  charity.  It  is  a  fact  that  I  have  heard  more 
than  one  minister  say,  both  of  Masonr}r  and  Odd- 
fellowship,  precisely  what  I  am  saying  now,  that 
they  accomplish  more  good  than  the  churches  do." 

"I  suppose  these  two  orders  bear  considerable  re 
semblance  to  each  other,"  observed  Stephen,  both 
for  the  purpose  of  saying  something,  «nd  because 
he  really  had  a  vague  idea  that  such  was  the  case. 

"Oh,  no;  they  are  independent  organizations,  en 
tirely  separate  in  everything.  A  man  can  join  both 
if  he  chooses,  and  so  get  a  double  benefit.  Now  a 
member  of  the  lodge  where  I  belong  is  not  only  an 
Odd-fellow,  but  a  Mason,  a  Knight  of  Pythias,  a 
Good  Templar,  and  I  know  not  what  besides.  But 
I  don't  believe  in  joining  so  many  orders.  Odd-fel 
lowship  contains  enough  to  satisfy  me,  and  it  ought 
to  any  reasonable  man." 

Now  it  must  be  confessed  that  Stephen  Rowland 
had  an  undefined  suspicion  of  anything  Masonic. 
He  remembered,  when  a  boy,  eating  his  luncheon 
with  his  father  one  hot  day  under  the  shade  of  the 
big  oak  in  the  south  pasture,  inquiring  between  the 
savoty  bites  of  doughnuts  and  cheese,  "Father, 
what  is  Freemasonry?" 

"It  is  a  bad  thing,  Stephen,  bad  clear  through.     I 


Better  Than   Christianity.  11 

hope  you  II  never  have  anything  to   do  with   it." 

'•But  what  makes  it  bad,  father?"  persisted  the 
boy,  whose  young  curiosity  was  fully  aroused. 

"Wh}T,  the  terrible  oaths  they  have  to  take,  for 
one  thing.  There  used  to  be  a  little  book  with  a 
blue  cover  up  in  the  attic,  when  I  was  a  boy,  that 
had  them  all  written  out,  and  the  signs,  and  grips, 
and  everything/' 

"Do  }xm  know  where  that  book  is  now?"  asked 
Stephen,  eagerly. 

"Hain't  a  notion.  I  suppose  it  got  scattered  along 
with  the  other  things  when  we  broke  up  after  father 
died." 

"But  why  do  they  have  to  take  such  oaths?"  in 
quired  Stephen,  going  on  with  his  catechising. 

"That's  a  question,  now/'  said  the  elder  Howland, 
ruminatively.  "Folks  ain't  generally  to  all  that 
pains  to  cover  up  good  deeds,  and  this  is  one  great 
reason  why  I  have  always  stood  to  it  that  Masonry 
must  be  bad.  The}*  say  that  if  a  man  takes  these 
oaths  and  then  lets  out  the  secrets  he  is  liable  to  lose 
his  life,  and  if  that  is  so  it  is  an  institution  only  fit 
for  thieves  and  murderers.  I  don't  suppose  there's 
a  doubt  but  what  they  murdered  William  Morgan 
out  in  western  New  York  for  writing  that  little  book 
I  told  you  of.  They  took  him  out  in  a  boat  at  night 
and  drowned  him  in  the  river.  This  was  something 
that  happened  before  my  da}',  but  father  used  to  tell 
about  it.  It's  queer  now  that  there  ain't  anything 
about  it  in  the  school  histories.  There  ought  to  be, 
for  it  made  an  awful  excitement  all  over  the  coun- 


12  Between    Two    Opinions. 

try,  so  that  the  lodge  went  down  everywhere  and 
men  were  ashamed  or  afraid  to  own  they  ever  had 
been  Masons.  Somehow  the  thing  had  a  big  tap 
root,  and  it  beats  all  how  it  has  started  up  again. 
But  I  tell  you,  Stephen,  don't  you  ever  join  the  Ma 
sons.  It  is  no  place  for  an  honest  man." 

So  believed  this  worthy  New  Englander,  this  Pur 
itan  of  many  generations,  and  so  according  to  his 
best  knowledge  and  belief  did  he  teach  his  twelve- 
year-old  son,  whose  mind,  accustomed  to  consider 
the  taking  of  human  life  as  the  most  dreadful  crime 
in  the  catalogue,  was  filled  with  horror  at  these  reve 
lations.  So  far  and  no  farther  could  Josiah  How- 
land  throw  his  red  light  of  warning.  It  is  true  that 
on  general  principles  he  was  opposed  to  the  lesser 
secret  orders,  but  in  his  eyes  Masonry  was  the 
Moses'  rod  that  swallowed  up  all  the  others,  leaving 
him  with  a  merely  negative  opinion  about  them  as 
of  something  foolish,  but  not  so  absolutely  bad  and 
mischievous  as  to  need  an}'  special  combating. 
Thus  it  was  that  Stephen,  as  soon  as  Mr.  Basset  as 
sured  him  that  Odd-fellowship  had  no  connection 
with  Masonry,  felt  a  sudden  revulsion  of  his  previ 
ous  prejudices,  and  was  perfectly  willing  to  hear 
more  about  it. 

"I  am  glad  to  know  I  was  mistaken  in  supposing 
them  to  be  alike,"  he  said,  after  a  moment's  pause. 
"The  fact  is — I  may  as  well  say  it — I  have  heard 
some  things  about  Masonry  not  at  all  to  my  taste." 

"0,  you  will  find  that  Odd-fellowship  has  nothing 
in  it  to  trouble  the  tenderest  conscience,"  returned 


Better  Than  Christianity.  13 

Mr.  Basset,  with  easy  cheerfulness.  -It  requires  no 
oath  of  its  members,  only  a  simple  obligation.  Be 
tween  ourselves.''  he  continued,  with  an  air  of  min 
gled  confidence  and  candor,  "there  are  objectionable 
features  about  Masonry.  I  don't  mind  saying  so, 
and  this  is  why  I  recommend  Odd-fellowship  so 
highly.  It  has  all  the  advantages  of  Masonry,  and 
none  of  its  drawbacks.  Here  you  are  a  stranger  in 
a  strange  place.  You  need  friends  who  will  stand 
by  3*011  if  you  are  sick  or  in  trouble,  and  be  inter 
ested  in  your  obtaining  a  practice.  Now  this  is  just 
where  Odd-fellowship  fulfills  the  divine  law  better 
than  the  churches  do:  -I  was  a  stranger  and  ye  took 
me  in,  naked  and  ye  clothed  me,  sick  and  in  prison 
and  ye  visited  me.'  That  is  the  kind  of  religion 
that  men  understand." 

Now  in  Mr.  Felix  Basset's  coat  pocket  reposed  at 
that  very  moment  a  small  volume  brimful  of  in 
structive  facts  for  all  good  Odd-fellows,  one  of  them 
being  stated  as  follows:  '-Chinese.  Polynesians,  In 
dians,  half-breeds  or  mixed  bloods  are  not  eligible 
to  membership!''  And  if  any  earnest  seeker  after 
the  truth  as  it  is  in  Odd-fellowship  had  looked  still 
deeper  into  its  pages  they  might  have  learned  that 
not  only  were  these  classes  excluded,  but  all  men  of 
African  descent,  all  women — none,  in  short,  being 
admitted  but  the  free,  white  males;  while  even  of 
this  favored  class  the  deaf,  dumb,  and  blind,  the 
aged  and  poor,  the  halt  and  lame,  might  as  well,  for 
all  their  hopes  of  ever  sharing  in  the  exhaustless 
stream  of  Odd-fellow  beneficence,  have  been  Chinese 


14  Between   Two   Opinions. 

coolies,  or  negroes  whose  shoulders  still  bore  the 
marks  of  the  overseer's  whip. 

But  it  is  the  tendency  of  human  nature  to  like  the 
sound  of  certain  words.  Men  have  thrown  up  their 
caps  and  shouted  themselves  hoarse  at  the  name  of 
Liberty,  while  her  most  devoted  sons  were  gasping 
in  dungeons  or  expiring  on  the  scaffold.  And 
Charity,  with  many  people,  is  almost  as  potent  a 
watchword.  They  swear  by  her  name  and  sound 
trumpets  in  her  honor  at  the  very  moment  that  she 
wanders  outcast,  frightened  away  by  the  noise  and 
blare.  Stephen  Rowland  believed  in  mutual  help 
fulness.  He  had  a  generous  nature,  and  was,  be 
sides,  in  that  situation  which  is  least  calculated  to 
nurture  any  proud  independence  of  one's  fellowr-be- 
ings.  He  considered  Mr.  Basset  very  kind  and 
friendly,  and  felt  grateful  accordingly;  and  though 
he  could  not  yet  see  that  it  was  both  his  duty  and 
privilege  to  become  an  Odd-fellow  with  all  conven 
ient  speed,  he  was  willing  enough  to  think  about  it. 

"Now  there  are  some  people,"  resumed  Mr.  Bas 
set,  "whose  idea  of  Odd-fellowship  is  just  a  mutual 
benefit  society  and  nothing  else.  But  that  is  a  very 
wrong  impression.  The  material  good  it  does  is  the 
least  part  of  it.  The  fact  is  it  is  a  great  moral  and 
religious  teacher,  and  above  all  it  is  a  temperance 
order.  Now  that  is  a  subject  in  which  everybody 
ought  to  feel  interested.  The  crime  and  misery 
caused  by  the  rum  traffic  is  frightful  to  contemplate 
— perfectly  terrible." 

"It  is  indeed,"  answered  Stephen,  feelingly,  for 


Better  Than   Christianity.  15 

he  had  been  educated  in  the  strictest  doctrines  of 
temperance.  He  believed  that  the  legalized  sale  of 
intoxicating  liquors  was  the  curse  and  shame  of  our 
Christian  civilization;  that  it  was  the  solemn  and 
bounden  duty  of  every  man,  woman  and  child  to  or 
ganize  and  fight  to  the  death  the  monster  Alcohol; 
that  it  was  the  old  medieval  battle  between  St. 
George  and  the  dragon  acted  over  again  in  the  living 
issues  of  to-da}*;  and  he  had  even  dreamed  of  grand 
and  heroic  deeds  that  his  own  right  hand  might 
some  day  perform  in  this  warfare.  Mr.  Felix  Bas 
set  could  hardly  have  touched  a  more  responsive 
chord. 

"I  am  a  very  strong  temperance  man  myself," 
continued  that  gentleman,  -and  though  I  think  the 
Good  Templars  and  other  similar  orders  are  very 
useful,  I  really  believe  there  is  no  better  organiza 
tion  to  promote  the  cause  than  Odd-fellowship  right 
ly  understood.  You  see  it  is  just  this  way," — and 
and  here  Mr.  Basset  lowered  his  voice  with  the  air 
of  one  about  to  impart  information  on  a  deep  and 
profound  subject — "everybody  don't  understand,  not 
even  the  majority  of  the  members  themselves,  that, 
as  its  teachings  are  based  on  the  broad  foundation 
of  universal  truth,  and  the  greater  always  includes 
the  less,  it  follows  that  they  must  in  the  nature  of 
things  cover  all  truth  that  humanity  needs  to  know. 
Considered  in  that  light  it  is,  as  I  said,  a  temperance 
order — nothing  less,  and  every  one  who  enters  it 
stands  committed  to  prohibition  principles.  But  to 
come  back  to  the  subject  we  started  on;  I  believe  in 


16  Between   Two   Opinions. 

the  church.  I  have  been  a  member  fifteen  years, 
and  I  assert  that  no  single  church  has  a  sphere  wide 
enough  to  do  all  the  charitable  and  benevolent  work 
that  the  world  needs  done.  An  Odd-fellow  who 
lives  up  to  the  requirements  of  the  order  can't  help 
being  a  good  Christian,  though  as  a  matter  of  actual 
practice  it  is  with  Odd-fellowship  just  as  it  is  in  the 
church,  inconsistency  even  among  the  best." 

Mr.  Basset  sighed,  though  whether  for  the  incon 
sistencies  of  church  members  or  lodge  members,  or 
both,  was  not  quite  apparent;  and,  after  a  moment's 
silence,  he  paid  the  young  attorney's  modest  fee,  and 
left  him  to  his  own  reflections,  which  amounted  sub 
stantially  to  this:  that  an  institution  which  could 
thus  combine  a  man's  interest  for  both  world's  must 
be  a  good  thing,  and  if  clients  did  not  come  in  any 
faster,  he,  Stephen  Howland,  would  be  standing  very 
much  in  his  own  light  not  to  heed  the  advice  so  free 
ly  and  disinterestedly  given. 


CHAPTER  m. 

WITH IX    THE     CIRCLE. 

A  strange  scene  now  rises  before  us.  and  though 
the  reader,  at  first  sight,  may  be  disposed  to  shrink 
back,  we  bid  him  follow,  in  all  good  courage:  for 
this  is  no  assembly  of  Southern  Ku-Klux.  meditating 
a  descent  on  some  defenseless  negro  cabin,  but  a 
company  of  peaceful  citizens,  who  lay  aside  their 
masks  and  disguises  when  the  business  which  calls 
them  together  is  over,  and  separate  without  the  de 
liberate  planning  of  a  single  deed  of  darkne— 

But  our  business  just  now  is  in  an  ante-room, 
where  two  men  stand  fronting  each  other,  the  older 
of  the  two  with  a  blank  book  before  him.  in  which 
he  is  writing  down  to  the  following  questions  the 
answers  given  him  by  the  younger,  who  proves  to  be 
no  other  than  our  friend.  Stephen  Howland: 

••What  is  your  name?" 

••Where  do  you  live?" 

'•What  is  your  occupation?" 

':How  old  are  you? 

••Do  you  hold  membership  in.  or  are  you  suspend 
ed  or  expelled  from  any  lodge  of  this  order?" 

''Are  you.  so  far  as  you  know,  in  sound  health?" 

Stephen  Howland  had  a  good  deal  of  what  we 
may  call  the  • -pride  of  life."  He  had  never  wronged 


18  Between    Two   Opinions. 

his  pure  and  temperate  ancestry  \)y  a  single  youthful 
excess,  and  his  happy  New  England  heritage  of 
mingled  plenty  and  toil  had  developed  in  him  a  vigor 
and  hardihood  which  hardly  knew  a  day's  sickness. 
So  he  may  be  pardoned  for  answering  in  the  affirma 
tive,  with  a  pleasant  consciousness,  meanwhile,  that 
his  well-knit,  manly  figure  and  fine  proportions  made 
him  goodly  to  look  at,  both  in  the  eyes  of  men  and 
women. 

"Do  }rou  believe  in  the  existence  of  a  Supreme, 
Intelligent  Being,  the  creator  and  preserver  of  the 
Universe?" 

And  again  Stephen  answered  in  the  affirmative, 
forgetting  that  he  called  himself  a  Christian,  and 
was  now  giving  his  assent  to  a  creed  that  left  out  the 
most  essential  part  of  his  faith;  and  which,  thus 
emasculated,  neither  Jew,  Mohammedan  or  deist 
could  possibly  quarrel  with. 

The  recording  angel  of  the  lodge,  who,  by  the 
wa}^,  bore  the  uncelestial  title  of  Past  Grand,  here 
put  down  his  pen  and  shut  his  book;  but  he  had  one 
more  inquiry  to  make  o£  the  young  neophyte: 

"Are  you  willing  to  enter  into  an  obligation  to 
keep  secret  all  that  may  transpire  during  your  initi 
ation?" 

Stephen  Howland  felt,  for  an  instant,  a  trifle  un 
comfortable;  but  had  he  not  been  assured,  time  and 
again,  of  the  highly  moral  and  religious  nature  of 
the  society  which  he  was  now  joining?  So  he 
swallowed  his  scruples  in  their  first  beginning,  gave 
once  more  the  expected  affirmative,  and  repeated,  in 


Within  the   Circle.  19 

a  clear,  firm  voice,  after  his  examiner,  "I  hereby 
pledge  my  sacred  honor  that  I  will  keep  secret  what 
ever  may  transpire  during  my  initiation/' 

His  catechiser  then  blindfolded  his  eyes,  which 
gave  Stephen  another  uncomfortable  feeling,  for  he 
was  naturally  one  of  the  wide-awake  kind,  who  like 
to  know  what  is  going  on  about  them;  and,  leading 
him  to  the  door  of  the  hall,  gave  three  resounding 
raps.  ""Who  comes  there?"  was  responded  from 
within.  "The  Outside  Conductor,  with  a  stranger 
who  desires  to  be  initiated  into  the  Independent  Or 
der  of  Odd-fellows'1,  answered  his  guide.  And  thus 
introduced,  Stephen  was  led  into  the  hall  to  where 
stood  three  figures,  the  one  on  the  right  and  left  be 
ing  in  long  white  robes,  like  grave  shrouds,  and  each 
holding  an  unlighted  torch.  The  middle  figure  was 
similarly  attired,  only  in  a  black  robe  instead  of  a 
white  one.  The  rest  of  the  company  wore  semi- 
masks,  the  upper  part  reaching  to  about  the  middle 
of  the  forehead,  and  the  lower  part  covering  the 
mouth;  the  funereal  aspect  of  the  whole  scene  being 
much  enhanced  by  an  open  coffin,  containing  a  very 
death-like  representation  of  a  skeleton,  which  was 
placed  in  the  center  of  the  room. 

"You  are  now  within  a  lodge  of  Odd-fellows", 
spoke  the  black-robed  figure,  in  a  kind  of  recitative 
singsong;  "here  the  world  is  shut  out;  you  are  sep 
arated  from  its  cares  and  distinctions,  its  dissensions 
and  its  vices.  Here  Friendship  and  Love  assert 
their  mild  dominion,  while  Faith  and  Charity  com 
bine  to  bless  the  mind  with  peace  and  soften  the 


20  Between    Two   Opinions. 

heart  with  sympathy.  Those  around  you  have  all 
assumed  the  obligations  and  endeavor  to  cherish  the 
sentiments  peculiar  to  Odd-fellowship;  but  before 
you  can  unite  with  them  you  must  pass  through  an 
initiatory  ceremony,  which  will  ultimately  lead  you 
to  primar}^  truth." 

Stephen  Howland,  standing  with  his  hoodwink 
over  his  eyes,  doubtful,  bewildered,  curious,  was  in 
a  receptive  rather  than  critical  posture  of  mind.  It 
did  not  even  occur  to  him  to  ask  with  Pilate,  "What 
is  Truth?"  But  how  shall  we  excuse  his  pastor,  the 
Eev.  Theophilus  Brassfield,  who  is  one  of  that 
masked  company,  and  only  the  previous  Sabbath 
preached  from  the  text,  "J  am  the  Way  and  the 
TRUTH  and  the  Life!" 

"The  stranger  now  awaits  our  mystic  rites,"  sol 
emnly  pronounced  the  figure  in  the  black  robe. 

"Then  at  once  the  chains  prepare,"  said  the  one  on 
the  right  hand  in  a  disguised  and  sepulchral  voice. 
And  a  chain  was  accordingly  thrown  over  his 
shoulders,  brought  around  under  his  arms  and  tied 
behind.  "Now,  bind  him  to  the  stake!"  chimed  in 
the  one  on  the  left;  but  the  black-robed  figure  inter 
rupted  this  cheerful  proposition  with,  "Hold!  Bro 
thers  !  shall  we  proceed  in  these,  our  mystic  rites,  or 
shall  we  mercy  show?"  And  from  the  masked  as 
sembly,  in  a  low,  hesitating  murmur,  came  the  ans 
wer,  "Mercy — mercy  show." 

All  this  did  not  appear  to  Stephen  nearly  as  fool 
ish  as  it  probably  appears  to  the  reader.  Whether 
it  be  a  case  of  magnetism,  or  snake  charming,  or  the 


Within  the  Circle.  21 

mere  influence  of  one  set  of  minds  on  another,  it 
generally  makes  all  the  difference  in  the  world  whether 
we  are  inside  or  outside  the  circle.  And  Stephen  was 
inside,  caught  in  the  whirlpool  of  all  this  spiritual 
jugglery.  He  had  not  the  smallest  fear  of  an}-  per 
sonal  harm,  yet  his  flesh  crept  with  a  cold  shiver  as 
the  faint  tolling  of  a  bell  struck  on  the  silence. 
When  he  was  a  boy  he  well  remembered  that  sound: 
how  he  used  to  count  the  strokes;  one,  two  for  the 
infant:  eighteen,  twenty  for  the  youth  and  maiden: 
five  and  forty  for  the  life  gone  down  in  its  meridian: 
fourscore  for  the  aged  and  full  of  days;  how  sol 
emnly  they  floated  out  from  the  little  country  church 
and  reverberated  amidst  the  quiet  of  those  green 
hills;  and  how  each  one  seemed  like  a  separate  voice 
out  of  the  dim,  shadowy  shores  of  eternity,  as  awful 
and  mysterious  as  the  voices  of  the  Apocalypse! 
And  by  a  curious,  but  not  extraordinary,  trick  of 
memory,  as  he  was  led  slowly  around  the  room  the 
clank  of  his  fetters  brought  to  recollection  an  old 
hymn  often  sung  by  his  mother  about  her  work: 
"How  sad  our  state  by  nature  is ! 

Our  sin,  how  deep  its  stains ! 
And  Satan  binds  our  captive  minds 

Fast  in  his  slavish  chains." 

Meanwhile,  he  in  the  black  robes  delivered  a  mel 
ancholy  harangue,  intended  to  deepen  still  further  the 
solemnizing  effect:  -Olari  in  darkness  and  chains! 
How  mournful  the  spectacle!  Yet  it  is  but  the  con 
dition  of  millions  of  our  race  who  are  void  of  wis 
dom,  though  the}'  know  it  not.  We  have  a  lesson  to 
impart  to  him — one  of  great  moment  and  deep 


22  Between   Two  Opinions. 

solemnity;  a  faithful  exhibition  of  the  vanity  of 
worldly  things;  of  the  instability  of  wealth  and 
power;  of  the  certain  decay  of  all  earthly  greatness." 
But  Stephen  hardly  heard  it  in  the  sense  of  receiving 
any  definite  impression  therefrom.  It  all  mingled 
together — a  bewildering,  bewitching,  stupefying 
draught  of  enchantment,  till  he  felt  the  hoodwink 
slowly  taken  off,  and  was  told  to  "contemplate  the 
scene"  before  him. 

Stephen  Howland  looked.  He  saw  the  coffin,  the 
skeleton,  and  the  two  sepulchrally  attired  figures, 
one  at  each  end  holding  up  lighted  candles  which 
threw  into  broad  relief  every  repugnant  feature  of 
the  sight  on  which  he  gazed — from  the  eyeless  sock 
ets  to  the  fleshless  mouth,  on  which  seemed  to  be  set 
Death's  horrible  grin  of  triumph.  In  common  with 
most  healthy  physical  natures,  he  shrank  from  all 
sight  and  contact  with  such  emblems  of  human  mor 
tality.  Coffins  and  graves,  skulls  and  crossed  bones 
he  had  no  morbid  fancy  for  contemplating,  but  his 
nerves  were  strong  and  he  did  not  even  change  coun 
tenance,  but  looked  steadily  as  bidden  while  the 
dreary  harangues  went  on  with  their  lessons  on  the 
instability  of  life  and  the  certainty  of  death,  which, 
divested  of  all  their  superfluous  and  high-sounding 
phrases,  might  have  been  found  in  any  child's 
primer. 

Then  he  was  again  blindfolded  and  lead  a  short 
distance  to  where,  the  hoodwink  being  once  more  re 
moved,  he  found  himself  confronted  by  an  apparition 
hardly  less  startling.  It  was  that  of  an  old,  a  very 


Within  the  Circle.  23 

old  man,  whose  years,  to  all  appearance,  rivalled  31  e- 
thusalelfs.  He  was  clad  in  a  long  black  robe,  tied 
closeh-  at  the  neck  and  waist  and  reaching  to  the 
feet;  his  long  grey  hairs  swept  his  shoulders,  a  beard 
of  silvery  whiteness  descended  to  his  waist,  and  he 
leaned  on  his  staff  for  very  age.  To  this  personage 
Stephen  was  now  introduced  with  due  formality  as 
the  Venerable  Warden  of  the  lodge,  and  commanded 
to  listen  to  his  words  of  wisdom,  which  unfortunate 
ly  lost  not  a  little  of  their  impressiveness  from  the 
fact  that  he  discerned,  or  thought  he  discerned,  the 
voice  of  Mr.  Felix  Basset  under  the  trembling  ac 
cents  of  this  lodge  Methusaleh.  From  thence  he  was 
led  to  the  chair  of  another  dignitary,  the  Worthy 
Vice  Grand.  At  the  mandate  of  this  officer,  who 
was  clad  all  in  celestial  blue,  the  chain  and  hoodwink 
were  taken  off  and  the  obligation  administered  with 
the  assurance  that  it  would  not  conflict  with  any  of 
the  exalted  duties  he  owed  to  God,  his  country  or 
himself.  And  with  his  right  hand  on  his  left  breast 
Stephen  Howland  promised:  never  to  communicate 
to  any  one  unless  directed  to  do  so  b}~  a  legal  lodge. 
the  signs,  tokens  or  grips,  the  term,  traveling  or 
other  passwords,  belonging  to  the  Independent  Order 
of  Odd-fellows;  never  to  expose  or  lend  any  of  the 
books  or  papers  relating  to  the  records  or  secret  work 
of  the  order  to  any  person  or  persons,  except  to  one 
specially  authorized  to  receive  them;  never  to  reveal 
any  private  business  which  might  be  transacted  in 
his  presence  in  this  or  any  other  lodge;  to  abide  by 
$he  laws,  rules  and  regulations  of  the  lodge,  the 


24  Between    Two  Opinions. 

Grand  Lodge  of  the  State  or  any  other  Grand  or 
working  lodge  to  which  he  might  be  attached;  never 
to  wrong  a  subordinate  or  Grand  lodge  to  the  value 
of  anything;  never  to  take  part  or  share  directly  or 
indirectly  in  any  illegal  distribution  of  the  funds  or 
other  property  of  the  lodge;  never  to  wrong  a  bro 
ther,  or  see  him  wronged  without  apprising  him  of 
approaching  danger,  and  should  he  be  expelled  or 
voluntarily  leave  the  order,  to  consider  this  promise 
as  binding  out  of  it  as  in  it. 

All  this  while  the  presiding  officer  of  the  lodge, 
the  Noble  Grand,  had  been  hidden  behind  a  red  cur 
tain,  and  pretended  at  first  to  be  exceedingly  busy, 
but  finally  condescended  to  appear,  dressed  in  a  robe 
of  Babylonish  scarlet,  and  instruct  still  further  the 
young  novitiate;  this  instruction  being  supplement 
ed  by  a  long  closing  lecture  from  another  officer,  the 
Worthy  Past  Grand,  in  which  he  was  told  that  the 
general  design  of  the  order  was  to  teach  the  princi 
ples  of  universal  fraternity,  and  improve  and  elevate 
mankind ;  in  short,  to  do  for  him  what  Christianity  has 
always  claimed  to  do.  and  actually  done,  in  the  judg 
ment  of  many  honest  souls,  who  will  even  point  you, 
in  their  simple  credulity,  to  numerous  facts,  both  of 
private  experience  and  written  history,  that  would 
really  seem  to  prove  them  right  in  their  belief. 

And  then  the  farce  was  over.  Stephen  Rowland 
was  a  duly  initiated  member  of  the  Independent 
Order  of  Odd-fellows,  entitled  to  the  fraternal  greet 
ings  and  congratulations  of  his  new-made  brothers, 
as  a  sharer  with  them  in  all  its  privileges,  temporal 


Within  the   Circle,  25 

and  spiritual.  Of  these,  Mr.  Felix  Basset  was  nat- 
urally  foremost. 

"Now,  what  is  there  in  Odd-fellowship  that  a 
Christian  man  can  possibly  object  to?"  he  inquired, 
with  a  beaming  smile  of  triumph.  "You've  found  it 
just  as  I  told  you — a  teacher  of  morals  and  religion 
all  through." 

"I  must  confess  that,  many  times  as  I  have  heard 
its  beautiful  and  instructive  ritual,"  observed  the 
Rev.  Theoj>hilus  Brassfield,  as  he  too  extended  a  fra 
ternal  hand,  "they  strike  me  at  every  repetition  with 
new  force  and  beaut}*.  In  this  changing  age  it  is 
good  to  have  a  form  of  sound  words  which,  like  the 
old  Episcopal  liturgy,  time  and  fashion  cannot  alter." 

The  fact  that  the  Odd-fellows'  ritual  has  been  al 
tered  twice  since  1844,  was  one  of  which  the  rever 
end  gentleman  was  either  ignorant,  or  else  it  had 
slipped  his  memory:  and  Stephen  Rowland,  who 
knew  as  little  of  the  history  of  the  institution  he 
had  joined  as  he  did  of  Youdooism.  could  only  smile 
assent. 

"That  is  what  I  always  tell  people,"  put  in  Mr. 
Green,  a  prosperous  grocer  and  an  enthusiastic  mem 
ber  of  the  order.  "I  tell  them  that  only  we  insiders 
know  the  first  letter  of  Odd-fellowship;  and  as  to 
there  being  anything  ridiculous  in  the  ceremonies,  I 
never  felt  so  solemn  in  my  life  as  I  did  the  night  I 
was  initiated." 

But  Mr.  Van  Gilder,  the  keeper  of  a  livery  stable 
near  by,  who  was  looked  upon  by  the  brethren  of 
the  stricter  sort,  as  rather  a  scandal  to  the  lodge. 


26  Between  Two   Opinions. 

through  his  convivial  habits,  to  say  nothing  of  other 
and  worse  ones  of  which  he  was  suspected,  seemed 
to  look  on  the  matter  in  a  slightly  different  light. 

"Hang  it  all,  Green,"  he  interrupted,  "what  is  the 
use  of  long  faces?  You  like  a  jolly  good  time  as 
well  as  any  of  us." 

Some  of  the  brethren  chuckled  at  this  hit,  and  one 
remarked,  "He  has  you  there,  Green."  While  still 
another  member,  conscious,  perhaps,  that  the  minis 
ter,  who  as  chaplain  of  the  lodge  was  generally 
present,  was  not  yet  out  of  earshot,  took  up  the 
cudgels. 

"Come,  Yan  Gilder;  that  is  no  way  to  talk.  If 
you  don't  want  religion  now  you  will  some  time.  If 
Odd-fellowship  didn't  teach  what  I  call  pure  religion 
I  shouldn't  care  an}Tthing  for  it.  But  I  say  it  does. 
I  always  feel,  after  seeing  a  candidate  initiated,  just 
as  solemn  as  though  I  had  been  to  a  prayer-meeting." 

Stephen,  on  whom  the  "solemn"  effect  was  fast 
wearing  off,  leaving  him  in  a  state  of  general  doubt 
as  to  whether  the  whole  thing  was  a  religious  cere 
mony  or  a  harlequin  play,  was  glad  to  get  out  into 
the  night  air  and  feel  its  reviving  breath  on  his  face. 
But  as  the  worthy  members  separated,  or  rather 
broke  up  into  little  knots  which  took  different  streets 
according  to  the  direction  of  their  several  homes,  his 
ears  were  greeted  by  another  scrap  of  talk  of  a  slight 
ly  different  tenor.  It  was  near  enough  to  election  for 
those  political  straws  to  be  flying  about  which  show 
office-seekers  whether  the  wind  is  to  blow  fair  or  foul 
on  the  all-important  day  that  is  to  decide  their  des- 


Within  the  Oircle.  27 

tiny  at  that  throne  of  King  People,  the  ballot-box. 

"Hicks  stands  a  chance  to  get  a  good  many  votes," 
said  one  lodge  brother,  -unless  the  Democrats  put 
up  a  stronger  man  than  either  he  or  Putney." 

"Hicks  is  popular  with  a  few  crooked  sticks,"  re 
sponded  the  other,  with  a  knowing  air.  as  he  stopped 
to  light  his  cigar;  "but  of  course  the  third  party 
can't  carry  the  day.  It's  Putney  that  has  got  the  in 
side  track,  you  may  depend  on  that. " 

"There'll  be  lots  of  bolting  done." 

"Let  'ein  bolt,  then.  It  won't  make  much  differ 
ence.  We  might  get  a  worse  man  for  Governor  than 
General  Putney.  He's  backed  up  by  all  the  Grand 
Army  Posts,  beside.  That's  the  way  he  come  to  be 
nominated.  The  thing  was  worked  up  neat  by  Put 
ney's  friends.  You  see  I  was  there  and  I  saw  it  all. 
The}'  kept  mum  till  nearly  all  the  candidates  were 
named,  and  then  Judge  Dorsey  got  up  and  proposed 
General  Putney's  name.  There  was  some  hissing 
then  and  a  great  deal  of  confusion,  for  if  the  General 
has  got  his  friends  he's  got  his  enemies,  too.  But 
the  Judge  kept  cool  He  had  two  strings  to  his  bow, 
and  he  laid  it  on  so  thick  about  Putney's  record  in 
the  war,  and  what  a  good  friend  he  had  always  been 
to  the  soldiers — how  he  had  worn  himself  out  m  their 
interests  trying  to  get  Congress  to  pass  increased 
pension  bills — I  tell  you  when  he  finished  his  speech 
the  boys  in  blue  could  have  been  heard  a  mile." 

Only  the  last  part  of  the  talk  reached  Stephen 
Rowland's  ears  in  any  connected  shape,  but  his  mind 
had  a  natural  bent  in  the  direction  of  politics.  He 


28  Between  Two  Opinions. 

was  interested  in  the  movements  of  parties  and  the 
prospects  of  candidates,  while  hating  political  trick 
ery  and  wire-pulling  with  all  his  heart.  He  had  a 
sincere  wish  that  the  people  should  understand  bet 
ter  who  and  what  they  were  voting  for  instead  of  be 
ing  made  mere  figure-heads,  having  a  show  of  sov 
ereignty,  while  the  actual  power  was  vested  in  a  few 
unscrupulous  party  leaders,  who  manipulated  the 
conventions  and  nominated  or  rubbed  out  at  their 
sweet  will,  without  the  least  regard  for  what  their 
constituents  desired.  Though  so  young  when  the 
war  ended  that  the  roar  of  cannon  and  ringing  of 
bells  which  announced  the  fall  of  Richmond  had  left 
only  a  faint  echo  in  his  memory,  he  had  a  genuine 
patriotic  feeling  of  friendliness  and  respect  for  old 
soldiers  who  had  ventured  their  lives  for  the  Stars 
and  Stripes,  and  he  believed  their  claims  should  be 
ever  held  in  remembrance  by  the  government  they 
had  fought  to  save;  and  it  was  natural  that  he  should 
feel  a  proportionate  indignation  when  he  saw  them 
made  the  mere  puppets  of  politicians  who  sought, 
by  playing  on  their  selfish  interests,  to  make  them 
stepping-stones  on  which  to  mount  higher  in  the 
scramble  for  preferment.  He  had  heard  of  General 
Putney,  and  knew  him  to  be  a  low,  vulgar  dema 
gogue.  So  this  was  the  way  he  was  hoisted  into 
office;  by  a  trick  of  clap-trap  oratory  appealing  to 
the  selfishness  or  the  gratitude — it  was  hard  to  say 
which — of  the  country's  veteran  defenders,  for  whom 
he  cared  not  a  straw  except  as  they  could  be  made 
subservient  to  his  own  political  advancement. 


Within  the  Circle.  29 

Stephen  was  thinking  it  over  when  a  hand  was  laid 
familiarly  on  his  shoulder — the  hand  of  one  of  his 
new-made  lodge  brothers. 

"Wannest  evening  I  ever  saw  so  late  in  the  sea- 
sou.  Step  in  here  and  have  a  glass  of  lemonade. 
I'll  stand  treat," 

Stephen  was  not  thirst}',  but  he  accepted  the  invi 
tation,  thinking  it  would  appear  churlish  to  refuse. 
and  followed  his  guide,  nothing  witting,  into  the 
fashionable  restaurant,  which  was  likewise  one  of 
the  genteel  drinking  places  that,  with  others  not  so 
genteel,  flourished  under  the  very  noses  of  the  Sons 
of  Temperance,  Rechabites  and  Good  Templars  to 
the  mystification  of  many  of  the  worthy  citizens  of 
Jacksonville,  who  could  by  no  means  understand 
why  the  mice  should  pla}'  when  the  cat  was  not 
away. 

An  hour  or  two  later  Stephen  Howland  was  kick 
ing  off  his  boots  in  his  office,  which  was  also  his 
only  sleeping-room,  with  the  feeling  of  one  just 
awakening  from  an  opium  dream. 


CHAPTER  IV. 
STEPHEN  ROWLAND'S  FIRST  CASE. 

A  stone's  throw  from  Stephen  Rowland's  office 
stood  one  of  the  few  surviving  landmarks  that  told 
of  a  time  when  the  city  of  Jacksonville  was  a  mere 
nucleus  of  log  huts  surrounded  by  unbroken  prairie. 
Stephen  had  often  wondered  why  it  was  allowed  to 
stand  there;  and  finally  reached  the  conclusion  that 
the  owner  must  be  a  miserly,  grasping  kind  of  man, 
who  was  holding  on  to  this  bit  of  primeval  propert}7 
in  hopes  of  a  fabulous  rise  in  real  estate.  Most  of 
our  conclusions  regarding  any  eccentric  or  unusual 
action  on  the  part  of  our  fellow-beings  are  about  as 
charitable  and  as  near  the  truth  as  Stephen's  sur 
mising,  who  little  thought  that  through  this  man  he 
would  secure  his  first  client. 

As  he  sits  in  his  rude  domicile,  like  a  bear  in  his 
den,  we  will  sketch  his  portrait.  He  is  large  and 
powerfully  built,  with  eyes  as  blue  and  keen  as  an 
Alpine  sky.  His  hair  falls  in  thick,  shaggy  locks 
from  an  ample  head,  where  a  phrenologist  would 
find  plenty  of  those  unamiable  bumps  which  char 
acterize  the  born  fighter;  especially  if  he  be  of  the 
combative,  destructive,  aggressive  Anglo-Saxon  race; 
yet  when  his  mouth,  shaded  by  its  bristling,  grizzly 


Stephen  Howlancfs  First   Case.  31 

beard,  parts  in  a  smile,  it  has  the  winning  sweetness 
of  a  child.  Taken  altogether  there  is  something  in 
the  general  cast  of  head  and  face  strongly  suggest 
ive  of  the  portrait  of  John  Brown.  Martin  Tre- 
worthy  had  often  been  told  that  he  looked  like  the 
hero  of  Osawatomie,  and  no  compliment  could  pos 
sibly  please  him  better.  In  the  old  stirring  days  of 
border  warfare  he  had  been  one  of  John  Brown's 
men,  and  when  the  curtain  fell  on  the  tragedy  of 
Harper's. Ferry,  the  man  who  had  marched  under  his 
orders,  bivouacked  with  him,  and  listened  to  his 
strong,  .burning,  fateful  words,  felt  the  burden  of 
prophecy  in  his  own  soul,  as  if  a  portion  of  his  be* 
loved  leader's  spirit  had  descended  upon  him. 

"It  don't  matter  to  me  what  folks  call  him,  'crack- 
brained,'  or  'visionary,'  or  'fanatic/  or  anything  else 
— that's  one  good  thing;  and  it  don't  matter  any  to 
the  captain,  that's  another.  He  was  the  only  one 
that  dared  to  do  instead  of  writing  and  speechify 
ing.  He  struck  slaver}"  right  at  its  heart,  and  it  will 
never  get  over  the  blow.  He  don't  need  me  to  stand 
up  for  him,  but  even1"  time  I  read  in  Revelation  I 
can  shut  my  eyes  and  see  him  as  plain  as  day,  sit 
ting  on  a  white  horse  and  following  the  One  in  the 
vesture  dipped  in  blood,  with  the  sharp  sword  going 
out  of  his  mouth.  Now  I've  pondered  a  good  deal 
on  that  passage  and  similar  ones.  I  tell  you  the 
American  people  have  got  a  cup  of  trembling  to 
drink  before  the  Lord  gets  through  reckoning  with 
'em.  The  time  is  coming  when  he  shall  tread  the 
winepress  of  the  fierceness  of  his  wrath  against  this 


32  £etwetn   Two   Opinions. 

nation,  and  blood  shall  come  out  of  the  winepress, 
even  unto  the  horses'  bridles." 

It  was  not  long  before  the  first  gun  fired  on  Fort 
Sumter  startled  the  North  from  its  dream  of  peace 
and  safety,  and  Martin  Treworthy,  as  he  buckled  on 
his  knapsack  and  shouldered  his  musket,  knew  that 
the  hour  of  which  he  prophesied  was  casting  its 
shadow  on  the  dial.  And  when  around  hundreds  of 
campfires  rose  the  stirring  strains  of  the  John 
Brown  song,  he  only  saw,  plainer  than  ever,  the  soul 
of  the  old  martyr-hero  "marching  on"  after  his 
Celestial  Chief,  who  had  waited  in  divine  patience, 
while  the  cries  of  his  enslaved  children  mingled  with 
the  prayers  of  his  saints  on  the  golden  altar,  till 
now  "the  day  of  vengeance  was  in  his  heart  and  the 
year  of  his  redeemed  had  come." 

He  had  been  through  all  the  hardest-fought  bat 
tles  of  the  war,  Gettysburg,  Antietam,  James  River 
and  the  Wilderness.  He  came  out  of  the  army  as 
he  entered  it,  a  private,  his  only  badge  of  distinc 
tion  some  honorable  wounds  that  disabled  him  from 
active  labor.  But  he  had  his  pension  and  a  small 
sum  laid  up  besides,  and  on  this  he  lived  very  com 
fortably.  He  was  one  of  the  first  settlers  of  Jack 
sonville,  and  though  the  price  of  the  land  on  which 
stood  his  primitive  dwelling  would  have  added  not  a 
little  to  his  worldly  wealth,  he  had  steadily  refused 
all  offers  to  sell,  though  not  everybody  knew  the 
reason  why. 

He  had  come  to  Jacksonville  when  its  future 
greatness  existed  only  in  the  speculator's  brain,  a 


Stephen  Rowlands  First  Case.  33 

middle-aged  man,  with  life's  summer  just  beginning 
— a  summer  like  that  of  northern  latitudes,  without 
any  spring;  for  he  had  been  left  an  orphan  in  early 
boyhood,  and  remembered  nothing  since  but  a  suc 
cession  of  rough  experiences  in  borderers'  cabins, 
fighting  wild  Indians,  prairie  fires  and  Missouri  ruf 
fians;  varied,  however,  we  must  remark,  by  one 
great  episode,  that  reversed  the  whole  current  of  the 
reckless  backwoodsman's  life — his  conversion  at  u 
Methodist  caniprneeting,  when,  among  other  ' -fruits 
meet  for  repentance."  he  had  given  up  his  favorite 
indulgence  of  tobacco;  an  act  which  had  more  of 
the  genuine  spirit  of  self-renunciation  in  it  than 
many  a  comfortable,  easy-going  Christian  ever 
dreams  of.  The  pretty  ••school-ma'am"  who  had  en 
gaged  his  affections,  an  orphan  likewise,  was  a 
woman  as  fair  and  good  and  true  as  any  of  the  hero 
ines  of  Scott  or  Burns.  But  alas  for  human  hopes! 
Scarlet  fever  broke  out  in  the  school  in  which  she 
was  teaching;  she  caught  the  infection,  and  in  one 
short  week  from  the  day  set  for  their  marriage  he 
laid  her  to  rest  under  the  prairie  roses,  and  tried  to 
keep  his  heart  from  breaking  by  reading  the  four 
teenth  chapter  of  John,  and  thinking  of  those  many 
mansions  of  which  the  Lamb  is  the  light  forever. 

"Somehow  all  this  happiness  I've  been  looking 
forward  to  don't  seem  to  be  for  me/'  he  said,  when 
he  came  out  of  that  first  trance  of  misery  which  suc 
ceeds  every  stunning  sorrow,  and  realized  with  a 
kind  of  wonder  that  he  could  still  live  on  when  the 
desire  of  his  eyes  had  been  taken  from  him  at  a 


34  Between    Two   Opinions. 

stroke.  "But  I  won't  murmur  at  God's  dealings. 
They  are  all  right  and  for  the  best.  'The  Lord  gave 
and  the  Lord  hath  taken  away.  Blessed  be  the 
name  of  the  Lord.'  " 

But  while  he  bowed  himself  thus  meekly  to  that 
mysterious  decree  which  condemned  him  to  loneli 
ness  and  solitude  for  the  rest  of  his  mortal  pilgrim 
age,  he  clung  to  the  home  that  was  to  have  been 
hers  with  a  tenacity  perfectly  unintelligible  to  any 
one  who  did  not  know  the  story  of  his  frustrated 
hopes.  He  had  driven  every  nail  with  his  own 
hands,  exulting  in  the  fact  that  it  was  the  only 
frame  house  in  the  settlement.  He  had  wrought  in 
to  its  fabric  all  the  dreams  and  hopes  which,  in  a 
nature  like  his,  can  have  but  one  earthly  blooming 
time;  and  now  that  she  had  gone  for  whose  pleasure 
and  delight  he  had  planned  and  labored,  it  still 
seemed  too  much  a  part  of  her  for  him  to  feel  con 
tented  anywhere  else.  For,  while  he  had  not  a  par 
ticle  of  superstition  in  his  nature,  and  denounced 
unsparingly  the  rappings,  table-tippings,  and  coarse 
materializings  of  so-called  "spiritualism"  as  a  fraud 
and  humbug,  directly  inspired  by  the  father-of-lies 
himself,  he  implicitly  believed  in  a  world  of  spirit 
ual  intelligences  above  and  around  him;  nor  would 
he  have  been  startled  at  any  time  if  soundless  foot 
steps  had  crossed  his  threshold,  and,  looking  up,  he 
had  beheld  once  more  the  blue  eyes  and  brown  hair, 
all  transfigured  with  that  tender,  immortal  light 
which  only  rests  on  the  foreheads  of  the  redeemed. 

So  much  for  Martin  Treworthy,  a  real  old  Iron- 


Stephen   Howland's  First   Case.  35 

side,  "born  out  of  due  season;"  a  prophet  without 
honor  save  among  a  few  who  liked  his  rugged  utter 
ances,  or  as  the}'  would  have  expressed  it,  "his  wa\ 
of  putting  things/'  He  now  sits  in  his  leathern 
arm-chair,  engaged  in  earnest  talk  with  a  young  man 
whose  shop-apron  and  sleeves  rolled  up  'to  the  arm 
pits,  proclaim  him  a  genuine  son  of  labor;  his 
shrewd,  kindly  face  indignant  and  thoughtful  by 
turns. 

"So  you  mean  to  appeal  to  the  law.  All  right. 
If  you  come  short,  call  on  me.  I've  got  a  little 
cash  laid  b}' — what  I  used  to  spend  for  tobacco. 
See  here,"  and  Martin  Tre worthy  took  down  a  tin 
box  from  a  shelf  over  his  head,  and  opening  it  dis 
played  a  goodly  store  of  shining  silver  coin,  "so 
much  for  the  Lord  that  used  to  go  to  the  devil,  and 
I  say.  take  it  to  fight  the  devil.  There's  twenty  dol 
lars  if  there  is  a  cent  in  good  solid  specie.  Come, 
now." 

But  the  young  man  shook  his  head  in  decided, 
though  grateful  refusal. 

"No,  Mr.  Treworthy;  your  sympathy  and  advice 
is  all  the  help  I  need.  The  evidence  against  Snyder 
is  so  strong  that  prosecuting  the  case  cannot  be  very 
expensive.  But  poor  Tom  is  pretty  bad  to-day.  It 
seems  the}'  kept  him  drinking  till  he  had  taken 
enough  whisky  to  kill  an  ox;  and  then  in  that  con 
dition  he  was  arrested  and  put  into  a  cold  cell  with 
only  a  little  straw,  and  not  a  blanket  to  cover  him — 
and  it  was  one  of  the  frostiest  nights  of  the  season. 
To-day  he  seems  a  little  out  of  his  head.  It  is  an 


36  Between    Two    Opinions. 

outrageous  affair,  and  I'm  bound  to  see  what  can  be 
done  about  it.  The  first  thing,  of  course,  is  to  get 
a  good  lawyer  to  conduct  the  case — if  I  only  knew 
what  one." 

"How  many  'good  lawyers'  do  you  reckon  on  here 
in  Jacksonville?"  asked  his  counselor,  somewhat 
dryly.  "Count  'em  up  on  your  fingers  and  see." 

"There's  Greggson.     Folks  call  him  smart." 

"So  is  the  devil,  but  I  wouldn't  want  either  of  'en 
to  plead  a  case  for  me." 

"Then  what  do  you  say  to  Simonds?" 

But  Mr.  Treworthy  looked  no  better  satisfied. 

"I  say  he  is  a  high  Mason,  and  a  poor  working- 
man  like  you  had  better  keep  clear  of  Sublime 
Princes  and  Knights  Elect  and  all  such  fellows. 
What  are  big  fish  for  except  to  swallow  little  ones?" 

"O,  if  }'ou  come  to  that,"  said  the  other,  as  he  un 
easily  shifted  his  left  foot  over  his  right,  "every 
lawyer  in  Jacksonville,  unless  maybe  this  young 
Rowland  that  has  just  come  into  the  place,  is  a  Ma 
son;  and  all  our  business  men,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
ministers,,  belong  to  that  or  some  other  secret  order. 
If  it  is  an  evil  I  don't  see  but  we  shall  have  to  put- 
up  with  it  or  else  go  out  of  the  world.  I  know  you 
think  all  secret  societies  are  bad  things,  and  I  am 
willing  to  admit  that  there  are  evils  connected  with 
Freemasonry,  but  whether  the}r  are  a  part  of  the 
system  or  mere  abuses  that  have  crept  into  it,  is  a 
question  that  I  must  confess  I  am  undecided  about. 
I  believe  the  trades  unions  and  temperance  lodges 
are  doing  a  good  work."  i 


Stephen  Howland's  First  Case.  37 

"Why  are  not  labor  troubles  stopped  and  the  sa 
loons  put  down  then?"  queried  Martin  Tre worthy, 
with  hi  tint  and  most  inconvenient  appositeness. 

"Oh.  well,"  replied  the  other,  "intemperance  is 
such  a  giant  evil  that  no  single  man  or  association 
of  men  seem  powerful  enough  to  grapple  with  it. 
And  as  for  labor  unions,  where  capitalists  are  grow 
ing  more  reckless  of  the  laboring-man's  rights  even- 
year,  combination  is  the  only  weapon  left.  To  tell 
the  truth,  I  joined  the  Knights  of  Labor  a  short 
time  ago,  and  as  yet  I  have  seen  only  good  in  the 
organization.  The  president  and  many  of  the  mem 
bers  are  Masons  or  Odd-fellows,  and  appear  to  be 
worthy  and  honorable  men  as  far  as  I  can  judge — 
at  least,  most  of  them.  Now,  I  really  can't  see 
where  the  practical  difference  comes  in  between  a 
lawyer  who  is  a  Mason  and  one  that  isn't.  Neither 
want  to  lose  their  cases." 

Mr.  Treworthy's  eyes  flashed,  and  he  brought  his 
hand  down  on  the  table  with  considerable  vehemence 
as  he  said: 

•:Xelson  Newhall!  I  am  older  than  3*011.  and  T 
have  seen  the  workings  of  this  vile  leaven  as  I  hope 
you  will  never  have  a  chance  to.  Difference?  It 
can  make  all  the  difference  between  sin  and  righteous 
ness,  truth  and  falsehood,  justice  and  oppression, 
heaven  and  hell.  I  have  seen  rogues  get  clear  that 
ought  to  have  been  hung,  and  far  honester  men  sent 
to  jail  in  their  places;  and  right  here  in  this  ven~ 
county  I  know  of  two  murderers  at  large  for  no 
other  reason  than  because  Masonic  sheriffs  would  not 


38  Between    Two   Opinions. 

arrest  and  Masonic  juries  would  not  convict.  Wasn't 
I  in  the  war,  from  the  time  the  first  gun  was  fired 
till  Lee's  surrender?  and  don't  I  know  a  thing  or 
two  you  young  civilians  who  never  smelled  powder 
no  more  dream  of  than  the  babe  unborn?  I  could 
tell  some  queer  stories  if  I  set  out  to.  As  for  your 
Grood  Templars  and  Grand  Army  posts  and  farmers' 
granges  and  Knights  of  Labor,  they  are  just  so 
many  wires  to  be  pulled  by  Masonic  politicians  that 
want  office,  and  Masonic  sharpers  that  want  to  line 
their  own  pockets  with  the  earnings  of  honest  farm 
ers  and  laborers.  And  if  a  Masonic  murderer,  or 
thief,  or  saloon-keeper  wants  to  go  clear  of  punish 
ment,  hasn't  he  got  just  as  much  right  to  pull  'em  as 
the  politicians?  Then  some  innocent  man  has  to 
bear  the  blame,  for,  as  a  general  thing,  if  the  law 
can't  get  hold  of  the  right  one  it  must  have  a  scape 
goat.  These  secret  lodges,  if  they  are  let  alone,  will 
bring  the  country  into  such  a  pass  as  the  prophet 
Joel  tells  of— we're  dreadful  nigh  it  now— 'That 
which  the  palmer-worm  hath  left  hath  the  locust  eat 
en;  and  that  which  the  locust  hath  left  hath  the 
canker-worm  eaten;  and  that  which  the  canker-worm 
hath  left  hath  the  caterpillar  eaten.'  That's  my 
mind." 

Martin  Treworthy  was  a  man  who  did  his  own 
thinking.  He  did  not  even,  as  is  the  case  with  the 
average  American  citizen,  let  the  newspapers  do  it 
for  him.  Thus  it  followed  that  to  be  favored  with 
"a  piece  of  his  mind"  after  it  was  once  made  up  was 
a  rather  formidable  thing,  there  being  none  of  that 


Stephen  Howlund's  First   Case.  39 

malleable  quality  about  it  characteristic  of  minds 
that  are  formed  of  the  odds  and  ends  of  what  other 
people  think  and  say,  and  then  duly  pressed  and 
stamped  into  shape  by  that  roller  which  we  call 
"public  opinion."  So  it  was  no  wonder  that  Nelson 
Newhall  winced  under  this  speech,  for  he  was  really 
as  honest  in  his  way  as  Martin  Treworthy,  and  had 
only  joined  a  secret  labor  union  for  the  same  good 
and  substantial  reason  that  makes  one  sheep  follow 
another  down  a  precipice. 

So  he  sat  for  a  moment  m  uneasy  silence,  and 
wondered,  for  he  was  a  simple,  honest  fellow,  with 
large  capacities  for  righteous  wrath,  btit  without  a 
particle  of  guile  or  duplicity,  how  so  many  ministers 
and  good  men  could  uphold  the  system  if  it  was 
really  anything  so  ver}~  bad.  For  the  large  majori 
ty  of  mankind,  who  are  neither  seers  nor  philoso 
phers,  are  apt  to  assume  the  existence  of  any  popu 
lar  evil  as  the  ground  of  its  right  to  exist.  Nelson 
Newhall  was  only  like  thousands  of  others.  He  saw 
the  lodge  in  power.  It  was  no  abstraction,  but  a 
tangible,  unquestionable,  undeniable  fact.  It  was 
palpable  and  material  as  the  Scarlet  Woman  seated 
on  her  seven-headed  beast.  How  came  it  there? 
popular,  powerful,  entrenched  behind  such  a  bulwark 
of  custom,  prejudice  and  fear.  Had  not  wise  men. 
good  men  and  great  men,  lent  it  their  silent  influ 
ence,  bowed  before  it  in  slavish  homage,  seen  no 
evil  in  it,  and  furthermore,  refused  to  see  any?  and 
could  such  men  be  wrong,  and  a  handful  of  fanatics 
like  Martin  Treworthy,  right?  This  is  a  style  of 


40  Between    Two   Opinions. 

reasoning  which  may  not  be  strictly  logical,  but  all 
reformers,  from  Paul  to  Luther,  and  from  Luther  to 
Garrison,  will  testify  that  it  is  very  common. 

Martin  Treworthy,  having  had  his  say,  was  con 
tent  to  let  the  subject  pass,  and  return  to  the  im 
mediate  theme  in  hand.  So  he  remarked  after  a 
moment's  silence: 

"Why  not  try  this  young  Rowland?  You've  got 
a  good  case,  as  plain  and  straight  ahead  as  the  Ten 
Commandments,  and  I  wouldn't  be  afraid  to  trust 
him  with  it.  Melroy — you  know  Moses  Melroy  that 
lives  over  in  Fairfield — used  to  be  acquainted  with 
the  Howlancfs  before  he  came  away  from  New  Hamp 
shire.  Real  nice  folks,  he  says  they  were — folks 
that  wouldn't  lie  nor  cheat  for  their  right  hand. 
Such  families  will  throw  out  crooked  shoots  some 
times,  just  as  a  tree  will,  but  it  ain't  the  rule  for  'em 
to  as  long  as  the  main  stock  holds  good." 

Nelson  Newhall  fingered  his  hat  for  a  moment  with 
his  eye  on  the  modest  sign,  "S.  Howland,"  just  visi 
ble  down  the  street.  "I'll  try  him,"  he  said,  decid 
edly,  and  took  his  departure.  But,  like  man}-  of  our 
human  decisions,  the  factor  which  really  determined 
him  was  one  of  which  he  was  himself  hardly  con 
scious.  The  fact  was,  he  was  born  in  the  old  Gran 
ite  State  within  sight  of  those  snow-capped  hills 
which  he  remembered  dimly  as  in  a  dream  of  some 
former  life,  and  the  flat,  rolling  Western  prairies, 
with  all  their  material  abundance,  had  never  been 
able  to  blot  out  the  vision,  or  make  him  forget  his 
early  home  with  its  stern,  rocky  soil,  its  piney  odors 


Stephen  Rowland's  First  Case.  41 

borne  on  every  passing  wind,  its  streams  of  crystal 
clearness  fit  to  be  a  type  of  the  river  of  the  waters 
of  life. 

But  just  here  we  will  avail  ourselves  of  an  author's 
privilege  to  stop  and  comment  on  this  curious  fact: 
that  Stephen  Rowland's  first  case  in  court,  one  that 
was  entireh*  to  his  mind,  that  stirred  up  all  the  chiv 
alry  of  his  nature,  and  fired  his  heart  with  that  gen 
erous  indignation  which  has  been,  ever  since  the 
world  began,  the  Grod-ordained  force  that  has  set 
those  morning  stars  of  humanity,  the  souls  of  he 
roes,  prophets  and  martyrs  swaying  in  their  orbits, 
did  not  come  through  any  interest  curried  for  him 
by  the  lodge,  but  in  that  direct  human  method  which 
lies  at  the  foundation  of  all  true  social  economy.  It 
is  astonishing,  when  one  comes  to  inquire  closely 
into  the  matter,  how  little  real  aid  to  success  in  their 
worldly  business  has  ever  been  afforded  to  honest 
and  self-reliant  members  by  Masonry,  Odd-fellowship 
or  any  other  secret  clique  whose  huge  pretensions 
pass  current  to-day  for  no  other  reason  than  because 
it  is  less  trouble  to  believe  a  lie  than  to  combat  it, 
and  more  easy  to  accept  an  assertion  without  ques 
tioning  than  to  bring  that  assertion  to  mathematical 
proof.  Honest,  self-respecting  Americans,  true  to 
the  old  Pilgrim  and  republican  traditions  bequeathed 
to  them  by  Puritan  and  Revolutionary  sires,  will  pre 
fer  to  gain  the  favors  of  their  fellow-men  in  the 
legitimate  method,  by  probity  and  strict  attention  to 
business,  though  at  the  same  time  they  ma}*  be  pay 
ing  a  large  part  of  their  earnings  to  keep  in  running 


42  Between  Two  Opinions. 

order  a  machine  which  they  have  not  the  least  idea 
how  to  work.  That  those  who  do  know  how  to  work 
it,  who  understand  the  use  of  every  wire,  and  just 
how  it  connects  with  the  lobby  or  the  caucus,  the 
court  or  the  market,  must  have  a  larger  reserve  stock 
to  draw  upon,  the  larger  the  number  of  these  igno 
rant  and  simple-minded  members,  is  certainly  as  easy 
of  demonstration  as  that  two  and  two  make  four. 

But,  as  we  intend  that  all  this,  with  other  facts 
equally  curious  and  instructive  shall  be  duly  illus 
trated  in  the  further  unfolding  of  our  story,  we  will 
drop  moralizing  and  go  back  fifteen  or  twenty  years 
to  the  rocky  hill-country  farm,  now  one  of  the  many 
deserted  homesteads  for  which  that  region  is  famed, 
which  its  owner,  Silas  Newhall,  in  an  evil  hour  left 
behind  him  to  seek,  with  his  wife  and  children,  a 
new  home  toward  the  sun-setting.  Silas  was  not  a 
very  active  or  intelligent  farmer.  He  planted  and 
sowed  and  reaped  with  little  regard  to  any  of  the 
"new  lights"  in  agriculture,  and  when  the  soil  in 
consequence  paid  him  but  scanty  returns,  he  grew 
discontented  and  was  in  just  the  mood  of  mind  to 
listen  to  an  enterprising  land  speculator  who  tried  to 
make  him  believe,  and  with  very  fair  success,  that 
Western  farms  brought  forth  spontaneously  all  that 
was  "good  for  food  and  pleasant  to  the  eyes,"  and 
no  more  needed  to  be  tilled  by  the  sweat  of  the  brow 
than  did  the  original  Eden. 

To  his  meek  little  wife  it  was  a  sore  trial  to  leave 
old  friends  and  neighbors,  but  after  the  first  protest 
she  had  no  more  to  say  either  in  the  way  of  remon- 


Stephen  Rowland's  First  Case.  43 

strance  or  complaint;  and  so  one  bright  morning  saw 
their  few  effects  packed,  and  they  themselves  on 
the  way  to  the  land  of  abundance,  to  find  at  their 
journey's  end  onh*  a  tumble-down  shanty  waiting  to 
receive  them,  instead  of  the  snug,  green-blinded  cot 
tage  their  New  England  ideas  led  them  to  expect. 
But  this  was  only  the  beginning  of  disappointments, 
for  the  new  railroad  which  the  enterprising  specu 
lator  had  enlarged  upon  as  sure  to  open  up  a  ready 
market  for  their  produce,  was  not  yet  built,  nor 
likely  to  be  for  an  indefinite  period;  and  Silas  New- 
hall  found,  too  late,  that  big  crops,  with  no  prospect 
of  converting  them  into  enough  ready  money  to  buy 
a  pair  of  shoes,  only  made  their  owner  poorer  in 
stead  of  richer.  He  finally  sold  his  farm  and  settled 
on  government  lands  in  a  region  farther  west,  only 
to  repeat  the  old  story  of  discouragement  and  fail 
ure.  He  grew  despondent  and  took  to  drinking, 
while  the  true-hearted  wife,  who  had  followed  his 
fortunes  with  never  a  murmur,  with  the  weakness  of 
a  mortal  disease  upon  her,  bore  a  weight  of  suffering 
to  which  the  martyr's  brief,  fiery  trial  is  as  nothing. 
Nelson  Newhall  was  fourteen,  Tommy  ten,  and 
Dora,  the  youngest,  a  pretty  child  of  six,  when  the 
inevitable  breaking  up  came.  The  father,  while  in 
toxicated,  fell  from  a  scaffolding  in  the  barn  and 
broke  his  neck  in  the  fall.  The  mother  lived  through 
the  following  summer,  nursed  by  kind  neighborly 
hands,  and  then  entered  that  invisible  world  where 
alone  the  hidden  purpose  of  love  in  her  dark,  tangled 
life-web  could  be  made  plain.  Nelson,  stout  and 


44  Between   Two   Opinions. 

strong  for  his  years,  could  work  his  own  way;  a  good, 
motherly  farmer's  wife  volunteered  to  take  little 
Dora;  but  Tommy  had  been  feeble  in  body  and  mind 
from  infancy,  perhaps  a  result  of  that  mysterious 
law  which  visits  the  sins  of  the  father  upon  the 
children,  a  law  which  seems  to  skip  one  and  take  an 
other  as  capriciously  as  the  cholera  or  the  plague, 
and  what  place  for  him  but  the  county  poor  house? 
Thither  he  went  to  receive  no  better  and  no  worse 
treatment  than  such  unfortunates  usually  receive  in 
similar  institutions.  Nelson,  to  whom  he  seemed  the 
only  living  thing  left  to  love  and  care  for,  used  to 
visit  him  weekly,  and  as  soon  as  he  could  claim  his 
own  earnings  took  upon  himself  the  burden  of  his 
support. 

But  poor  Tom,  as  a  part  of  the  dark  legacy  so 
strangely  bequeathed,  liked  the  taste  of  liquor;  that 
is,  he  was  always  ready  to  sip  the  sweet  poison  if 
placed  in  his  way,  but  he  had  not  as  yet  developed 
such  a  craving  for  it  as  would  lead  him  to  tax  his 
weak  brains  with  the  effort  to  get  it  clandestinely; 
and  ordinarily  his  lack  of  money  was  a  sufficient 
safeguard.  But  being  unfortunately  enticed  one 
evening  into  a  low  drinKing  saloon  kept  by  a  certain 
Peter  Snyder,  it  was  considered  a  very  rare  pieee  of 
amusement  by  the  bar-room  loungers  to  ply  the  half 
witted  boy  with  bad  whisky  till  the  point  was  reached 
at  which  he  was  incapable  of  affording  them  further 
entertainment,  when  he  was  coolly  ejected  with  a 
kick  of  his  cowhide  boots  by  "the  proprietor,  a  pecul 
iar  and  forcible  style  of  argument  which  Mr.  Snyder 


Stephen   Rowland  s   First   Case.  45 

found  handy  in  certain,  cases.  In  this  condition  he 
was  pounced  upon  by  a  watchful  guardian  of  the 
public  peace,  and  thrust  into  the  lockup  after  -  the 
manner  described  by  Nelson  in  his  talk  with  Mr. 
Treworthy.  The  result  was  a  cold  and  high  fever< 
which  carried  him  to  death's  door. 

Peter  Sn}~der  was  arrested  and  bound  over  to 
answer  to  two  indictments:  one  for  illegal  liquor 
selling,  the  other  for  allowing  Thomas  Newhall  to  be 
made  drunk  with  whisky  sold  on  his  premises,  said 
Newhall  being  feeble-minded  and  a  minor.  He 
pleaded  guilty  to  both  charges  and  was  duly  con 
victed  and  sentenced;  for,  as  it  happened.  Mr.  Sny- 
der  had  never  been  able  to  obtain  admittance  into 
the  ancient  and  honorable  fraternity  where  so  many 
of  his  particular  guild  find  a  safe  retreat  from  the 
sheriff  and  other  -terrors  of  the  law."  We  append 
his  own  statement  of  the  reason,  as  given  by  him  in 
communicative  words  to  his  various  chums  and 
cronies,  only  leaving  out  certain  expressions,  ques 
tionable  both  on  the  score  of  morals  and  taste. 

"I  tell  ye,  now,  my  opinion  of  the  Masons  don't 
take  many  words  to  say  it  in.  They  are  a  set  of  big, 
sneaking,  rascally  hypocrites.  How  did  they  treat 
me  once  when  I  tried  to  get  in?  I  made  my  applica 
tion  ship-shape  and  stood  all  ready  to  pay  my  fees 
and  dues  fair  and  square;  but  I  wasn't  quite  genteel 
enough  for  'em,  so  I  got  blackballed.  I  don't  sell 
liquor  because  it  is  respectable  or  genteel;  I  do  it  to 
make  money.  Look  at  Parker  and  Longman,  and 
lots  of  others,  all  Masons  and  all  engaged  in  the 


46  Between   Two   Opinions. 

same  business,  only  maybe  they  carry  it  on  in  more 
style,  and  durned  if  I  ain't  as  good  as  they  are!" 

It  will  be  seen  from  the  above  that  many  traits  of 
our  common  humanity  were  quite  highly  developed 
in  this  poor  rumseller;  noticeably  his  tendency  to 
justify  himself  as  being  at  least  no  worse  than  many 
others.  This,  with  the  fact  that  there  had  been 
moments  in  his  life  when  he  thought  of  his  good  old 
praying  Methodist  mother,  and  half  resolved  to  quit 
the  vile  business  altogether  and  make  a  man  of  him 
self,  coupled  with  the  further  fapt  that  he  had  al 
ways  put  it  off  till  "a  more  convenient  season,"  was 
certainly  clear  proof  enough  that  he  was,  after  all, 
of  the  same  flesh  and  blood  with  the  general  run  of 
humanity.  But  the  liquor  business,  like  the  slave- 
trade,  must  always  have  its  Pariahs — men  from  the 
lower  stratum  of  society  who  bear  on  their  own 
shoulders  much  of  the  publi-c  odium  of  a  traffic  that 
they  did  not  create,  and  which  would  fall  like  a  mill 
stone  as  soon  as  it  ceased  to  be  patronized  or  sup 
ported  by  any  other  class.  Just  as  in  ante  bellum 
days  it  was  very  easy  to  find  good  people  who  looked 
with  horror  and  loathing  on  the  slave-dealer,  while 
regarding  with  complacency  or  indifference  the  sys 
tem  of  which  that  occupation  was  only  the  legitimate 
exponent,  so  the  publican  of  foreign  birth  who 
stands  behind  the  bar  and  deals  out  the  fiery  poison 
to  poor  Pat,  who  goes  straightway  home,  possessed 
with  all  the  devils  of  the  still,  to  beat  and  abuse  his 
wife  and  children,  is.  an  outcast  and  a  wretch  to  be 
spurned  by  all  decent  people;  but  what  of  the  voter 


Stephen  Rowland's  First  Case.  47 

or  legislator  who,  in  blind  devotion  to  party  or  for 
the  loaves  and  fishes  of  political  power,  is  willing  to 
ignore,  and  thus  perpetuate  the  system  which  creates 
the  rumseller? 

Stephen  Rowland  took  hold  of  the  case  like  a  war- 
horse  eager  for  his  first  fray.  There  was  in  Jackson 
ville  quite  a  strong  under-current  of  prohibition  sen 
timent,  which  had  been  for  some  time  slowly  gather 
ing  force,  and  as  the  case  was  one  which,  in  its  pe 
culiar  nature,  awakened  sympathy,  his  vigorous  and 
successful  prosecution  of  it  gave  to  the  young  and 
almost  discouraged  lawyer  precisely  that  start  in  his 
profession  that  he  needed. 

But  we  cannot  do  better  than  to  give  the  reader  an 
extract  from  one  of  his  letters  home: 

"Public  sentiment  is  at  last  roused  up,  and  on  the  principle  of 
the  one  toppling  brick  overthrowing  its  fellows,  there  is  some 
hope  that  Snyder's  arrest  and  conviction  will  close  up  other  drink 
ing  places  whose  owners  are  equally  defiant  of  law.  For  my  part 
I  am  only  too  delighted  at  such  a  rare  opportunity  to  fight  the 
dragon,  for  I  expect  to  have  more  liquor  cases  on  my  hands ;  two 
came  in  to-day. 

"That  Nelson  Newhall  is  a  splendid  fellow;  a  grand  specimen 
of  the  genus  labor ;  and  Martin  Treworthy  is  an  old  soldier  who 
lives  all  alone  like  a  herrnir.  or  a  saint.  He  came  and  shook  hands 
with  me  after  I  had  my  speech,  and  told  me  I  had  spoken  like  a 
young  Daniel,  and  he  only  wished  my  folks  could  have  been  here 
to  have  heard  me.  I  know,  dear  mother,  that  from  my  babyhood 
it  has  been  your  wish  and  prayer  that  I  might  be  a  Samuel.  It 
hurt  me  more  than  anything  else  to  disappoint  those  wishes  and 
prayers,  but  if  I  'dare  to  be  a  Daniel',  will  not  that  do  as  well?" 

"It  will  suit  me  well  enough,"  said  Josiah  How- 
land,  emphatically,  interrupting  Phoebe  in  her  read 
ing  of  the  letter.  "Be  sure,  mother,  when  you  write, 
to  tell  him  that.  And  tell  him,  too,  that  I  feel  a 
sight  more  reconciled  to  his  being  a  lawyer  now  that 
he's  given  them  pesky  rumsellers  a  lesson." 


48  Between   Two   Opinions. 

As  for  Phoebe,  she  was  too  full  of  joy  and  thank 
fulness  to  say  a  great  deal;  and  there  mingled  with 
it,  too,  a  kind  of  awe.  Why  is  it  that  the  Lord 
often  seems  nearer  to  us  when  he  answers  our 
prayers  in  a  way  we  are  not  expecting?  In  the  quiet 
of  the  bedroom  which  had  been  her  "closet"  for  so 
many  years,  she  read  over  again  the  precious  letter; 
then,  falling  on  her  knees,  tried  to  give  utterance  to 
her  thanksgivings,  feeling  much  as  did  Eve  of  old 
when  she  exultingly  exclaimed,  "I  have  gotten  a 
man  from  the  Lord." 

But  why  did  Stephen,  in  all  his  letters  home,  never 
once  mention  the  fact  that  he  was  an  Odd-fellow? 
one  of  a  fraternity  so  moral,  so  religious,  so  benev 
olent!  •  The  reader  is  welcome  to  put  his  own  solu 
tion  to  a  question  that  Stephen  Howland  had  never 
as  yet  consciously  answered,  even  to  himself. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  OPINIONS  OF  A  W.  C.  T.  TJ. 

Nelson  Newhall,  in  his  vigils  by  his  brother's  bed 
side,  had  found  plenty  of  time  to  think,  and  the  re 
sult  of  his  thinking  was  to  deepen  an  already  set 
tled  conviction  that  the  temperance  question  was 
destined  to  take  precedence  of  all  others  as  a  vital, 
living  issue;  one  which  would  not  much  longer  allow 
itself  to  be  thrust  out  of  sight  by  part}*  politicians; 
certainly  not  after  every  intelligent  voter  could  be 
made  to  realize  that  it  was  costing  the  taxpayers  of 
the  nation  several  hundred  million  every  year. 

It  did  not  occur  to  him  that  behind  this  question 
stood  another  which  affected  it  like  an  unknown 
quantity,  a  disturbing  factor  in  ever}'  attempt  at 
solution,  though  he  was  aware  of  certain  puzzling 
anomalies  connected  with  the  subject.  Why,  in  the 
face  of  a  largely  increased  prohibition  sentiment 
among  the  people,  should  prohibition  as  a  political 
principle  make  such  slow  advances?  Why  were  pro 
hibition  candidates  nominated  and  .prohibition  tickets 
put  in  the  field  only  for  sure  defeat  ever}*  election 
day? 

Tom  was  slowly  coming  back  to  life  and  conscious 
ness.  The  pale,  wasted  face,  as  it  lay  on  the  pillow, 
seemed  to  open  afresh  the  fountain  of  fraternal  love 


50  Between   Two   Opinions. 

in  Nelson's  heart,  and  he  felt  once  more  something 
as  he  remembered  feeling  in  the  old  days  when  Tom 
my  was  his  all  to  guard  and  love  and  cherish  and 
defend,  if  need  be,  against  the  world. 

The  door  opened,  and  Martin  Treworthy,  who  had 
been  an  indefatigable  nurse  and  watcher,  entered 
with  a  bunch  of  hot-house  grapes,  which  he  laid  on 
the  table  while  he  himself  took  a  chair,  remarking  as 
he  did  so — 

"I  can  read  my  Bible  or  the  newspaper  in  one 
place  as  well  as  I  can  in  another,  and  I  thought  may 
be  there  was  somebody  not  far  off  that  would  be 
glad  to  see  you  for  an  hour  or  so." 

Nelson  colored  slightly,  but  did  not  wait  for  any 
broader  hint.  Only  stopping  to  tell  Mr.  Treworthy 
about  some  new  medicine  the  doctor  had  ordered,  he 
put  on  his  overcoat  and  was  gone. 

For  Martin  Treworthy  had  watched  with  almost 
paternal  interest  the  transacting  of  a  little  of  the  old 
Edenic  idyl,  which  has  never  been  quite  lost  put  of 
the  world,  and  never  will  be  while  that  Gospel  lives 
which  has  glorified  all  true  human  affection  by  mak 
ing  it  the  type  and  shadow  of  the  heavenly  union 
between  the  believing  soul  and  its  risen  Redeemer. 
Any  young  couple  starting  out  in  life  with  only  their 
bare  hands  and  their  faith  in  G-od  and  each  other, 
might  be  very  sure  of  his  blessing,  for  as  previously 
stated  he  had  once  been  a  lover  himself , -and  believed 
thoroughl}-  in  the  New  Testament  ideal  of  marriage, 
while  he  had  correspondingly  small  patience  with 
the  low  and  mischievous  notions  on  that  subject 


Opinions  of  a   W.   C.   T.   U.  51 

which  prevail  so  extensively  in  our  modern  days. 
Thus  it  happened  that,  thanks  to  Martin  Treworthy, 
the  bright-faced  little  dressmaker  to  whom  Nelson 
was  engaged  received  that  evening  a  visit  from  her 
betrothed  that  she  was  not  expecting.  Martha  Ben 
son  was  a  good  specimen  of  the  best  class  of  young 
American  women,  steady  and  sensible,  not  handsome 
according  to  any  of  the  generally  accepted  rules  of 
beauty,  yet  of  so  bright  and  wholesome  a  counte 
nance  that  no  one  could  deny  her  the  meed  of  come 
liness.  Well  educated,  she  had  taught  school  sev 
eral  terms;  well  read  in  solid  literature  and  deeply 
religious,  she  was  a  prize  for  any  man's  winning, 
rich  or  poor;  and  Nelson  Newhall,  unlike  many  of 
the  masters  of  creation  under  like  circumstances, 
was  sufficiently  aware  of  the  fact  to  wonder  humbly 
at  his  own  good  fortune.  Obliged  to  earn  her  own 
bread,  she  had  tried  a  number  of  ways  to  do  it,  and 
was  now  working  for  an  aunt  who  had  a  small  shop 
in  the  suburbs  where  she  carried  on  dressmaking. 

Martha  herself  answered  her  lover's  knock,  and 
read  in  his  face  the  good  tidings  even  before  he 
spoke. 

"Tom  is  better!  I  am  so  glad.  I  have  been  want 
ing  to  hear  all  day.  And  you  really  think  the  dan 
ger  is  over?" 

"All  present  danger,' ;  answered  Nelson,  as  he 
pressed  her  hand  and  gazed  into  her  pleased,  earnest 
face.  "But  it  has  been  a  hard  pull,  and  after  all, 
Martha — I  don't  know — perhaps  death  would  be  bet 
ter  than  life  for  him,  poor  fellow!" 


52  Between   Two   Opinions. 

"No,  Nelson;  don't  say  that,"  said  Martha,  earnest 
ly.  "Perhaps  this  experience  will  have  the  effect  of 
checking  his  appetite  for  drink.  I  have  heard  of 
such  things.  Tom  is  not  quite  like  others,  but  we 
must  remember  that  it  is  a  trial  permitted  by  Provi 
dence  that  should  only  make  us  more  patient  with 
his  weakness." 

"That  is  true,  Martha,  and  I  love  you  all  the  more 
for  thinking  and  feeling  so.  Not  every  woman 
would.  But  I  honestly  believe  this  cursed  rum  is  at 
the  bottom  of  all  poor  Tom's  misfortunes,  for  I  re 
member  one  day  after  father  began  to  drink,  his  giv 
ing  him  a  push — it  was  a  push,  not  a  blow — so  that 
he  fell  and  struck  his  head  so  hard  against  the  edge 
of  the  stove  as  to  stun  him  for  awhile.  Mother  was 
very  sick  and  knew  nothing  of  the  accident,  ana 
father  was  too  intoxicated  to  realize  it,  so  I  did  the 
best  I  could.  I  held  Tommy  and  bathed  his  head, 
and  after  awhile  he  seemed  to  come  to  all  right,  and 
I  thought  no  more  about  it  till  he  began  to  be  strange 
and  have  fits.  Even  then  it  was  a  long  while  before 
I  put  the  two  things  together  as  a  cause  and  conse 
quence." 

"Oh,  this  terrible  rum  business!  Can  it  never  be 
stopped?"  said  Martha,  sighing. 

"Sometimes  I  feel  discouraged  and  think  it  never 
will  be.  Still  the  local  opflon  law  works  well  in 
many  places  and  is  a  long  step  towards  it.  What  do 
you  say,  Martha,  to  going  onto  a  farm  and  making 
butter  and  cheese?" 

"I  say  that  it  shall  be  the  best  butter  and  cheese 


Opinions  of  a   W.   O.   T.   U.  53 

made  in  the  township.''  replied  Martha,  who  saw  the 
drift  of  this  seemingly  irrelevant  question  better 
than  the  reader  probably  does.  "You  know  I  was 
born  and  bred  on  a  farm/' 

Nelson's  brow  cleared.  Evidently  her  cheerful 
answer  had  removed  some  hidden  obstacle  in  his 
pathway,  but  he  asked,  doubtfully,  "Do  you  realh* 
mean  it,  Martha,  that  you  would  be  willing  to  go  on 
to  a  farm  if  I  could  find  a  good  one  without  going 
out  of  the  State?  In  a  year,  if  everything  goes 
right  with  me,  perhaps  I  could  scrape  enough  money 
together  to  buy  one.  You  see  how  it  is,  Martha; 
Tom  would  be  more  out  of  the  way  of  temptation. 
'Take  care  of  Tommy,'  was  mother's  last  word  to  me 
as  she  lay  dying;  and  if  I  am  ever  permitted  to  meet 
her  in  heaven  I  want  to  be  able  to  tell  her  that  I 
have  taken  as  good  care  of  him  as  I  knew  how." 

"Of  course  I  mean  it,  Nelson,"  said  Martha,  look 
ing  up  with  moistened  eyes.  "Didn't  you  suppose  I 
understood  the  reason  the  minute  you  asked  the 
question?" 

"Oh,  Martha;  you  are  a  blessed  woman.  I  ain't 
half  worthy  of  you.  But  after  all,  perhaps  if  the 
balance  was  rightly  struck  it  would  be  found  that  I 
owed  more  to  Tom  than  he  owes  to  me.  Having  him 
to  guard  and  defend  has  been  many  a  time  like  the 
grip  of  G-od's  own  hand  on  my  soul  to  keep  me  from 
going  to  the  devil  as  I  might  have  done  without  To 
be  sure  I  had  a  sister,  but  she  must  be  altogether 
grown  out  of  my  remembrance  by  this  time." 

Martha  had  always  regretted  this  separation,  for 


54  Between  Two   Opinions. 

she  felt  a  natural  desire  to  be  acquainted  with  her 
future  sister-in-law.  She  said  nothing,  however,  but 
sitting  down  to  her  sewing  machine,  stitched  away 
busily. 

"You  seem  in  a  hurry,"  remarked  Nelson,  after 
watching  her  for  some  minutes. 

"Only  to  finish  this."  And  she  stopped  the  whir 
of  her  machine  and  held  up  to  his  view  the  garment 
she  was  making.  It  was  an  infant's  robe,  fine  and 
white  and  dainty  enough  for  any  fond  mother's  dar 
ling;  but  as  she  smoothed  it  down  and  looked  it  over 
critically,  it  struck  Nelson  that  her  face  was  unusu 
ally  pale. 

"You  are  not  well,  Martha,"  he  said  in  alarm.  "Or 
has  something  happened  to  trouble  you?  You  look 
about  sick.  Do  put  away  your  work  for  to-night." 

"I  am  well,  Nelson — only  heartsick.  Do  you 
know  what  it  is  I  am  making?" 

"Nothing  more  than  a  baby's  dress,  is  it?"  inquired 
Nelson,  wonderingly. 

"It  is  a  baby's  shroud — another  innocent  victim 
to  the  Moloch  of  Rum.  I  am  making  the  last  gar 
ment  it  will  ever  wear,  for  a  child  deliberately  burned 
to  death  by  its  drunken  mother  here  in  this  nine 
teenth  century,  in  civilized  and  Christianized  Ameri 
ca!  Why,  would  it  have  been  any  worse  off — poor 
thing — if  it  had  been  born  in  Old  Testament  times 
when  mothers  threw  their  infants  into  the  heated 
arms  of  an  idol  god?" 

"Shocking!"  exclaimed  Nelson.  "Do  you  mean 
Mrs.  McLean's  child?  I  heard  it  had  got  dreadfully 


Opinions  of  a   W.   C.   T.   U.  55 

burned  and  I  knew  she  was  a  drinking  woman,  but 
still  I  supposed  it  was  all  an  accident" 

'•Xo;  it  was  the  deliberate,  fiendish  act  of  a  brain 
crazed  with  bad  liquor.  The  reason  I  happen  to  be 
making  its  burial  robe  is  because  Aunt  used  to  work 
in  an  undertaker's  establishment  and  she  had  some 
nice  fine  remnants  laid  by  that  were  just  the  thing. 
The  poor  little  creature  breathed  its  last  in  my  arms. 
0  Nelson,  it  seems  so  awful,  so  terrible.  Will  this 
curse  never  cease?  Must  the  cry  of  innocent  blood 
forever  go  up  in  vain?  0  if  I  had  but  the  power  to 
make  every  voter  in  the  land  hear  that  murdered 
babe's  dying  cries  as  I  heard  them!  They  ring  in 
my  ears  now." 

And  Martha  clasped  her  hands  over  her  face  in  a 
convulsive  shudder. 

"It  is  awful,  but  what  can  we  do?  Both  our  great 
political  parties  are  controlled  by  the  saloon  power. 
They  will  dodge  and  shirk  the  question,  but  the}' 
won't  touch  it  with  a  pair  of  tongs;  and  as  to  the 
Prohibition  party,  it  lacks  something — union  or  zeal, 
or  both — or  it  would  certainly  accomplish  more. 
Last  year,  when  there  was  so  much  temperance  talk 
done,  why  were  nearly  all  the  votes  cast  for  the  old 
parties?  And  this  year  it  will  be  the  same.  Tem 
perance  men  will  support  anti-prohibition  candi 
dates  for  fear  of  giving  away  their  vote  to  the  other 
side." 

"Well,  I  am  not  a  politician,"  said  Martha:  <;I  am 
only  a  woman,  and  I  suppose  I  look  at  such  things 
from  a  woman's  point  of  view.  I  believe  in  moil 


56  Between   Two   Opinions. 

more  than  I  do  in  parties,  and  in  principles  more 
than  I  do  in  votes.  Most  of  the  political  talk  in  the 
newspapers  just  reverses  this,  and  makes  men  and 
principles  the  least  important  things,  when  they  are 
actually  the  only  force  the  saloon  power  dreads,  for 
it  knows  that  parties  can  be  controlled  and  votes 
bought,  but  men  and  principles,  never." 

"That's  exactly  the  way  it  stands,  Martha;  but  I 
don't  see  what  is  ever  going  to  hammer  it  into  the 
heads  of  the  politicians,"  answered  Nelson,  with  a 
doubtful  shrug  of  his  shoulders. 

"Well,  now,  Nelson,  it  seems  to  me  that  I  have 
grown  to  understand  some  things  lately  that  I  never 
understood  before.  You  know  I  belong  to  the 
Woman's  Christian  Temperance  Union,  and  T  have 
belonged  to  the  Good  Templars,  beside.  T  have  al 
ways  been  interested  in  temperance  work  ever  since 
I  can  remember,  and  I  have  been  brought  into  some 
slight  association  with  workers  noted  in  the  cause. 
Now  if  there  is  any  want  of  union  in  the  temperance 
ranks  there  must  be  a  reason  for  it.  Supposing  an 
army  is  marching  to  attack  the  enemy,  and  a  part 
should  break  up  into  little  squads,  each  with  its  own 
leaders,  its  own  secret  plans  and  countersigns  and 
passwords,  how  long  would  it  be  before  there  would 
be  an  end  to  all  unity  of  action?" 

"Not  a  great  while,  certaiiiry ;  but  I  don't  think  I 
quite  understand  your  comparison." 

"And  supposing,"  said  Martha,  continuing  her 
parable,  "these  same  petty  squads,  after  considerable 
{big  talk'  from  their  leaders  of  all  the  feats  of  valor 


Opinions  of  a    W.   C.   T.    U.  57 

they  were  going  to  perform,  how  the}'  only  needed 
a  sight  of  the  enemy  to  smite  him  hip  and  thigh, 
should  let  their  arms  rust  and  their  auiunition  spoil 
while  they  sat  down  on  the  grass  to  play  games  and 
tell  stories?  Now  you  are  wondering  why  the  tem 
perance  cause  is  always  meeting  with  a  Bull  Run. 
But  look  at  it  here  in  Jacksonville;  there  is  no  real 
unity  among  our  temperance  people  because  they  are 
broken  up  into  little  secret  cliques,  each  trying  to 
rival  the  other;  and  as  for  good  solid  work,  there  is 
none  done  worth  the  name.  It  has  all  degenerated 
into  play.  Now  the  W.  C.  T.  U.  is  a  grand  organiza 
tion.  It  is  meant  for  work,  and  the  amount  of  labor 
that  some  of  the  women  who  belong  to  it  perform, 
is  astonishing;  simply  heroic.  But  1  have  yet  to 
find,  among  the  Grood  Templars,  a  real  worker  for 
temperance,  man  or  woman,  who  makes  a  point  of 
regularly  attending  the  lodge  meeting." 

;-Why.  Martha!  seems  to  me  you  are  rather  sweep 
ing." 

"Not  a  bit,  I  have  been  there  and  I  know.  I 
don't  mean  to  say  that  the  G-ood  Templars  have  never 
done  any  good  in  the  line  of  reform.  When  a  lodge 
is  first  started  there  are  always  more  or  less  of  the 
members  who*  join  with  a  sincere  desire  to  do  tem 
perance  work,  and  if  some  of  the  W.  C.  T.  U.  women 
can  be  persuaded  to  come  in  they  can't  help  carrying 
a  portion  of  their  vim  and  enthusiasm  along  with 
them.  But  such  ones  sink  into  a  hopeless  minority 
after  awhile.  They  find  that  the  leaders  are  not 
those  with  the  most  executive  ability.  They  are  the 


58  Between   Iwo   Opin"'sns. 

ones  who  can  sing  the  best  songs  and  tell  the  best 
stories,  and  contribute  most  to  the  general  fund  of 
amusement;  and  so  the  working  spirit  all  dies  out, 
slowly  smothered  to  death,  and  the  lodge  comes  to 
be  a  mere  social  club — what  saloonist  ever  stood  in 
dread  of  that? — a  place  where  you  can  go  and  meet 
your  acquaintances  and  have  a  good  time.  The  last 
Good  Templar  meeting  that  I  attended  was  just  be 
fore  the  State  election.  There  was  a  strong  prohibi 
tion  tide  setting  in,  but  instead  of  planning  how  to 
take  advantage  of  it,  I  cannot  remember  that  the 
subject  of  temperance  was  even  once  alluded  to  all 
the  evening;  nor  was  it  made  a  specialty  of  at  any 
of  the  meetings.  Half  the  time  was  spent  in  drill 
ing  us  in  the  secret  work  of  the  order,  and  the  other 
half  in  talk  that  had  no  more  to  do  with  the  subject 
of  temperance  than  it  had  with  political  economy. 
Now,  the  more  I  think  about  it  the  more  convinced 
I  am  that  no  good  work  for  God  or  humanity  can  be 
done  if  -we  start  with  a  wrong  principle.  'Can  a 
fountain  send  forth  at  the  same  place  sweet  water 
and  bitter?'" 

"Then  it  is  the  secrecy  you  disapprove  of,"  said 
Nelson,  who  felt  uneasy  under  this  talk,  without  ex 
actly  knowing  why.  "Now,  I  can't  see*  any  harm  in 
it,  necessarily.  In  the  Knights  of  Labor,  for  in 
stance,  the  secrets  are  so  few,  merely  the  grips  and 
passwords,  that  they  don't  really  amount  to  any 
thing." 

"Then  why  have  secrets,  anyway?  If  they  don't 
amount  to  anything,  what  good  do  they  do?" 


Opinions  of  a    W.   C.   T.   U.  59 

Nelson  felt  posed.  It  was  such  a  perfectly  com 
mon-sense  question,  and  Martha  asked  it  in  such  a 
cool,  common-sense  way,  that  it  was  decidedly  sur 
prising,  as  well  as  inconvenient,  not  to  find  any 
answer  ready.  So  what  could  he  do  but  repeat  at 
second-hand  the  old  Masonic  argument,  with  which 
his  connection  with  the  Knights  of  Labor  had  made 
him  tolerably  familiar: 

"Why,  society  is  so  constituted  that  secrecy  is 
necessary  sometimes.  Why  do  Grand  Juries  sit  with 
closed  doors,  and  Congress  hold  secret  sessions?  and 
even  the  family — what  is  that  but  a  secret  institu 
tion?" 

Martha's  eyes  flashed. 

••Don't  name  the  lodge  and  the  family  in  the  same 
breath.  It  is  profanation.  Privacy  and  secrecy  are 
two  different  things.  Senates  and  juries  publish  the 
results  of  their  deliberations  to  the  world,  which  is 
all  that  the  nation  or  the  community  is  interested  in 
knowing.  And  furthermore,  such  secrecy  is  only 
a  temporary  arrangement;  senators  and  jurors  do  not 
take  solemn  oaths  never  to  reveal  anything  that  is 
done  behind  closed  doors.  And  as  to  the  family," 
and  the  flash  went  out  of  Martha's  eyes  in  a  gleam 
of  good-humored  laughter,  '-you  had  better  not  fay 
to  exact  an}'  such  vow  from  me.  Just  think  of  a 
family  with  its  members  pledged  to  keep  all  the}*  say 
and  do  forever  secret  from  the  rest  of  mankind!  I 
am  sure  that  nothing  would  induce  me  to  pass  a  sin 
gle  night  under  their  roof  for  fear  that  murdering 
travelers  and  confiscating  their  effects  might;  be 


60  Between    Two   Opinions. 

among  those  precious  'secrets.'  But  there  are  other 
reasons  in  my  mind  why  such  societies  must  always 
be  a  drag  on  the  temperance  cause.  As  a  Christian 
woman  I  believe  that  the  gospel  and  the  gospel  alone 
is  the  true  reforming  agency  for  the  world,  and  all 
organizations  for  that  end  will  be  successful  just  so 
far  as  they  work  by  Christian  methods.  Good 
Templarism  requires  its  candidates  to  believe  in  a 
Supreme  Being,  but  all  through  the  ritual  the  name 
of  Christ  is  mentioned  but  a  few  times,  his  atoning 
work  not  once.  Now,  I  don't  believe  that  drunkards 
can  be  saved  by  pledges  and  good  resolutions.  The}' 
.need  something  else.  They  need  to  be  told  of  a 
Divine  Helper  who  will  stand  by  them  just  as  they 
are,  in  all  their  vileness  and  degradation,  and  battle 
with  them  and  for  them  against  the  demon  of  the 
still.  They  need  to  be  told  the  old,  old  story  of 
Jesus  crucified  for  sinners,  bleeding  his  life  away 
that  the  vilest  might  look  to  him  and  live.  Tell  the 
drunkard  that;  guide  his  trembling,  shaking  hand 
till  it  touches,  only  touches  the  hem  of  Christ's  robe, 
and  his  feet  are  on  the  Rock  of  Ages,  and  he  is  a 
saved  man.  But  this  is  exactly  what  Good  Templar- 
ism  never  does." 

Martha  spoke  with  quivering  lips  and  eyes  that 
shone  through  unshed  tears,  while  Nelson  gazed  at 
her  roused  and  kindled  face  with  a  kind  of  wonder. 

"You  talk  like  Martin  Treworthy,"  he  said. 

'•If  I  do  it  is  because  one  Spirit  has  taught  us 
both,"  she  answered,  resuming  her  work,  which  she 
had  dropped  in  her  momentary  excitement.  "Now, 


Opinions  of  a   W.   C.   T.   U.  01 

the  Good  Templars  profess  to  be  a  religious  order, 
or  why  do  they  have  prayers  and  au  altar  and  a  chap 
lain?  Yet,  as  I  said  before,  the  lodge  does  not  and 
cannot  convert  the  drunkard,  and  without  conversion 
I  do  not  believe  in  a  permanent  reform.  I  don't 
mean  to  say  that  there  is  no  Christianity  in  its  teach 
ings.  There  is  just  enough  to  make  them  danger 
ous,  for  what  more  fatal  delusion  under  heaven  than 
a  Christless  Christianity?  As  a  matter  of  fact  the 
really  religious  members  of  the  lodge  fare  about  as 
bad  as  the  workers.  It  is  the  worldly,  irreligious 
element  that  invariably  gets  the  upper  hand.  I  have 
known  a  man  who  could  hardly  spell  his  wa}'  through 
the  ritual  elected  chaplain  just  for  a  joke,  and  not  a 
single  voice  raised  in  rebuke  or  dissent.  Yet  there 
were  Christian  men  and  women  present;  I  was  there 
myself,  and  I  remember  feeling  shamed  and  indig 
nant  at  first,  and  then  laughing  with  the  rest  at  his 
manifest  exultation  at  being  promoted  to  the  chap 
lain's  desk,  and  the  funny  way  in  which  he  mispro 
nounced  his  words.  I  blush  when  I  think  of  it,  but 
there  is  a  mysterious  something  about  these  nightly 
gatherings  that  acts  like  a  draught  of  enchantment. 
I  have  known  professed  Christians  to  say  and  do  in 
a  Good  Templar  lodge  what  they  would  not  have  said 
or  done  anywhere  else.  I  am  sure  of  one  thing: 
Christ  isn't  there,  and  the  Holy  Spirit  isn't  there. 
Why  should  they  come  where  their  work  is  persist- 
ently  ignored  and  set  aside  for  mere  human  methods? 
The  lodge  is  like  the  house  in  the  parable,  'empty, 
swept,  and  garnished;'  and  Satan  enters  in  and  dwells 


62  Between   Two  Opinions. 

there,  and  the  last  state  of  man  or  woman  who  joins 
it  expecting  to  be  helped  thereby,  or  put  in  the  way 
of  helping  others,  is  worse  than  the  first.  After 
attending  the  meetings  for  a  few  times  I  began  to 
feel  a  strange  deadness  and  indifference  when  I  took 
up  my  Bible  or  tried  to  pra}7.  I  lost  my  relish  for 
prayer-meeting;  even  for  the  dear  old  hymns  that  I 
used  to  sing  over  my  work.  I  knew  that  something 
was  wrong  and  it  made  me  miserable,  but  I  could 
not  imagine  what.  I  tried  to  think  that  it  was  only 
a  common  experience,  a  mere  passing  cloud,  and  I 
should  feel  all  right  again  soon.  All  the  while  I 
knew  better.  I  knew  I  had  backslidden,  but  what 
had  made  me?  Now  if  I  had  been  enticed  into  at 
tending  some  place  of  amusement,  professedly  world 
ly,  like  the  ballroom  and  the  theatre,  I  should  have 
known  in  a  moment;  but  how  could  I  lay  my  spirit 
ual  darkness  and  trouble  to  attending  the  meetings 
of  an  organization  that  claims,  for  its  sole  object, 
to  save  men  and  do  them  good?  I  will  tell  you 
what  opened  my  eyes :  an  Anti-masonic  tract  that 
fell  in  my  way.  I  was  familiar  enough  with  temper 
ance  tracts,  but  this  was  something  new;  so  I  took  it 
up,  half  curious,  half  indifferent,  thinking  to  myself, 
'Women  are  never  Masons;  how  can  the  subject  pos 
sibly  concern  me?'  But  I  found  that  it  did  concern 
me,  and  in  more  ways  than  one.  I  saw  that  it  was  a 
system  square  against  Christianity  on  one  side,  and 
every  principle  of  our  republican  liberty  on  the 
other.  And  I  saw  besides,  as  plain  as  two  and  two 
make  four,  that  the  same  line  of  argument  which 


Opinions  of  a    W.   C.   T.   17.  63 

condemns  Freemasonry  condemns  Good  Templar- 
ism." 

';0h,  nonsense,  Martha.  You  are  so  conscientious 
that  }'ou  are  like  an  over-careful  housekeeper,  who  is 
always  finding  dirt  and  disorder  where  nobody  else 
would  think  of  looking  for  it.  Xow.  I  have  seen 
books  that  claim  to  expose  Masonry,  and  granted  that 
they  are  true,  what  possible  likeness  between  their 
barbarous,  blood-curdling  oaths,  for  instance,  and  the 
simple  promise,  or  'obligation',  which  is  said  to  be 
all  any  of  these  minor  orders  require?" 

"Just  the  difference  that  there  is  between  a  glass 
of  champagne  and  a  tumbler  of  stiff  old  Bourbon.'' 
answered  Martha,  promptly.  "What  makes  the  fas 
cination  in  any  kind  of  spirituous  drink?  Just  the 
alcohol,  more  or  less,  that  it  contains.  So  these 
minor  orders  are  fascinating  just  in  proportion  to  the 
amount  of  secrecy  which  they  cover.  Xow,  the 
whole  of  Good  Templarism  could  be  just  as  well 
taught  in  one  degree  as  in  half  a  dozen;  and  all  the 
object  of  the  Charity,  Fidelity  and  Council  degrees, 
so  far  as  I  can  see,  is  to  serve  the  double  purpose  of 
making  the  principle  of  secrecy  so  familiar  that  the 
gradation  to  Masonry  and  Odd-fellowship  will  be 
easy  and  natural,  and  to  shut  the  mouths  of  consci 
entious  non-Masons.  Xow.  Xelson,  let  me  ask  a 
plain  question:  are  you  just  as  ready  to  express  your 
honest  convictions  about  Masonry  as  }~ou  would  be 
if  3*ou  did  not  belong  to  a  secret  order?  Don't  you 
feel,  without  exactly  knowing  why,  that  there  would 
be  an  inconsistency  in  your  denouncing  it?  that  it 


64  Between    Two   Opinions. 

would  certainly  draw  down  upon  you  the  dislike  of 
the  Masonic  members  of  the  lodge  if  you  did  so,  and 
on  the  whole  you  had  better  let  it  alone?" 

Nelson  Newhall  was  decidedly  an  exemplary  3'oung 
man  who  would  not  have  told  a  lie  for  the  world. 
He  neither  smoked  nor  chewed;  was  a  regular  church 
goer,  and  taught  a  class  of  boys  in  a  mission  Sun 
day-school.  I  am  afraid  he  was  only  a  step  removed 
from  a  well-meaning  young  Pharisee,  though  Martha, 
looking  at  him  by  the  light  of  that  glamour  with 
which  a  true  affection  always  invests  the  beloved 
object,  saw  nothing  of  the  sort. 

"I  don't  know  but  it  is  so,  Martha,"  he  answered, 
after  a  moment's  hesitation,  "though  I  never  though 
of  it  before." 

"But  there  is  another  side  of  the  question.  How 
can  temperance  workers  admit  into  their  ranks  as 
co-laborers  men  who  are  bound  by  oath  to  protect 
every  saloonist  who  can  give  the  Masonic  sign  of 
distress?  Will  not  their  best  efforts  be  constantly 
checkmated,  and  their  plans  betrayed  when  Masonic 
interests  come  in  collision  with  the  temperance 
cause?  For  my  part  I  am  not  surprised  that  prohi 
bition  makes  such  slow  progress  considering  how 
many  politicians  have  to  be  accommodated  with  of 
fice  every  year — like  Gen.  Putney,  for  instance." 

"But  the}r  say  the  Grand  Army  Posts  put  him  in." 

"And  who  originated  the  Grand  Army?  Who  are 
its  leaders?  Poor,  simple,  private  soldiers  with  no 
political  aspirations,  or  Masonic  ex-generals  who 
want  their  votes?  I  desire  no  clearer  proof  than 


Opinions  of  a    W.   C.   T.   U.  65 

Gen.  Putney's  nomination  that  the  Grand  Army  is  a 
mere  political  machine  manipulated  by  men  without 
a  single  patriotic  impulse  in  their  bosoms;  with 
whom  self  is  first,  party  next,  and  country  last  of 
all.  It  is  worse  than  folly  to  let  corrupt  secret  rings 
control  the  elections  and  then  clamor  for  reform." 

"All  I  can  say  about  it  is  that  the  people  are  to 
blame/'  returned  Nelson.  "If  every  temperance 
man  would  go  to  the  polls  resolved  to  drop  all  party 
interests  and  vote  for  none  but  out-and-out  prohibi 
tionists,  without  any  regard  whatever  to  party  lead 
ers,  the  tide  would  soon  turn.  But  *why  have  you 
never  told  me  before  how  opposed  you  were  to  secret 
societies?" 

••Because  I  was  really  not  aware  of  it  myself.  I 
joined  the  Good  Templars  without  the  least  sus 
picion  of  any  harm  in  the  organization.  The  wor 
thiness  of  the  professed  object  blinded  me  to  all  the 
folly  and  sin;  but  now  the  beam  is  cast  out  of  my 
own  eye,  perhaps  I  can  see  clearly  to  pull  the  mote 
out  of  my  brother's  eye." 

"I  know  what  is  coming,  Martha,"  answered  Nel 
son,  with  a  comical  look  of  resignation  in  which 
there  mingled,  to  a  critical  observer,  the  slightest 
shade  of  vexed  annoyance.  "I  am  ready  for  the 
operation,  however,  if  you  will  engage  not  to  hurt 
more  than  is  necessary." 

"Well,  dow,  Nelson,  as  a  laboring  woman  who  in 
tends  to  marry  a  laboring  man,  I  ought  to  be  inter 
ested  in  all  that  concerns  the  working  classes — secret 
trade  unions  like  the  Knights  of  Labor  included." 


66  Between    Two   Opinions. 

"Oh,  coine,  Martha!  what  do  you  know  about  the 
Knights  of  Labor?  Capitalists  can  and  do  com 
bine,  and  why  shouldn't  workingmen?  I  have  no 
high  opinion  of  the  Masons  or  the  Odd-fellows 
either,  though  I  don't  know  much  about  them;  but  a 
harmless  trade  union  is  quite  another  thing.  And 
besides,  I  hardly  ever  attend  the  meetings.  I  just 
pay  my  dues,  and  that  is  about  all." 

Martha  held  her  peace.  She  was  a  prudent 
woman,  and  did  not  always  speak  the  thought  that 
lay  uppermost. 

"You  see  all  the  other  workmen  were  joining," 
continued  Nelson,  after  a  moment's  silence;  "and 
they  urged  me  a  good  deal.  It  is  all  very  well  to 
talk  about  independence,  but  a  man  must  be  fair  to 
himself  and  fair  to  his  fellows.  The  labor  problem 
presents  entirely  different  conditions  from  what  it 
did  fifty  or  even  twenty  years  ago.  Now  I  feel  per 
fectly  able  to  stand  alone  and  fight  my  battles  with 
the  capitalist  on  my  own  hook,  but  that  isn't  the 
case  with  one  in  a  hundred.  How  can  an  ignorant, 
unskilled  workman  with  a  large  family  protect  him 
self  against  the  greed  and  injustice  of  employers? 
He  will  just  as  surely  be  driven  to  the  wall  as  he  at 
tempts  it.  The  class  increases  every  day,  and  if  it 
were  not  for  these  protective  unions  he  would  be  in 
a  condition  little  better  than  white  slavery.  Shall 
the  strong,  just  because  they  are  strong'  stand  off 
selfishly  each  by  himself  and  let  his  weaker  brother 
stumble  along  as  he  can?  That  isn't  the  way  I  read 
my  Bible,  and  I  am  sure,  Martha,  it  isn't  the  way 


Opinions  of  a   W.   C.   T.   U.  67 

you  read  yours.  As  for  the  secrecy  part  of  it,  as  I 
said  before,  it  don't  amount  to  much — only  enough 
to  prevent  imposition." 

"Insurance  companies  are  imposed  upon  some 
times.  Why  don't  they  need  the  protection  of 
secrecy  just  as  much?"  queried  Martha. 

"Oh,  that  is  a  different  thing.  Business  is  guard 
ed  by  red  tape,  which  is  something  plain  working- 
men  don't  know  much  about.  Some  secret  signs  are 
necessary  to  enable  those  who  actually  belong  to 
make  themselves  known  when  they  are  traveling 
from  place  to  place,  and  at  the  same  time  keep  out 
bogus  members." 

"/  think  it  is  a  great  deal  more  important  to  keep 
out  unscrupulous  leaders,"  returned  Martha,  dryly; 
"for  among  the  other  uses  of  secrecy  you  forget  to 
mention  that  it  is  a  most  convenient  cover  under 
which  such  men  can  do  pretty  much  as  the}'  like." 

•;0h.  well,"  said  Nelson,  as,  with  a  half  laugh  and 
hasty  glance  at  the  little  French  clock  on  the  man 
tle,  he  got  up  to  go;  "we  might  talk  on  this  subject 
from  now  till  next  week,  and  then  stand  about 
where  we  did  when  we  begun.  I 'can't  afford  to 
spend  time  and  strength  fighting  secret  societies 
when  there  are  so  many  worse  evils  in  the  world.  I 
want  to  see  this  rum  business  put  down,  and  I  am 
willing  to  give  up  all  I  have,  even  life  itself,  to  do 
it.  But  still,  I  agree  with  you  in  thinking  that  these 
societies  have  not  done  as  much  for  the  temperance 
cause  as  they  pretend.  And  as  to  the  Knights  of 
Labor,  if  I  become  a  fanner  that  will  sever  my  con- 


68  Between    Two   Opinions. 

nection  with  them,  and  leave  us  nothing  to  quarrel 
about  unless  I  join  the  Grange.  But  now,  Martha," 
he  added,  dropping  his  half-jesting  tone,  "try  to  put 
this  dreadful  thing  that  has  happened  out  of  your 
mind.  You  couldn't  have  helped  it  or  prevented  it. 
It  is  only  a  specimen  of  what  is  continually  going 
on,  and  will  keep  going  on  till  the  people  rise  in 
their  might  and  refuse  to  bear  it  any  longer.  When 
the  liquor  traffic  finally  does  go  down,  I  believe  it 
will  be  in  such  a  whirlwind  of  popular  wrath  that 
the  whole  cursed  thing  will  be  destroyed  root  and 
branch,  and  swept  as  completely  from  the  land  as 
ever  slavery  was." 

"G-od  hasten  the  day,"  ejaculated  Martha,  solemn- 
\y.  "Amen,"  returned  Nelson,  as  solemnly.  And 
so  they  parted,  one  in  their  hatred  of  the  dark,  de 
stroying  saloon  power,  yet  divided  by  that  subtle 
spirit  of  evil  which  stands  at  its  right  hand — the 
spirit  of  the  secret  lodge. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

LOAVES    AND    FISHES. 

Colonel  Gail  Hicks,  the  nominee  of  the  Prohibi 
tion  party,  was  a  man  the  inteusit}-  of  whose  moral 
convictions  was  only  equaled  by  the  unsullied  purity 
of  his  public  and  private  life.  He  was  pre-eminently 
a  man  of  the  people,  and  chosen  by  the  people  with 
that  divine  instinct  which  generally  shows  itself 
when  any  great  question  opens  the  way  for  independ 
ent  political  action.  The  Republican  nominee  was 
first  and  last  a  demagogue,  whose  military  career 
had  been  chiefly  remarkable  for  disastrous  blunders, 
unredeemed  by  any  personal  bravery,  and  whose 
large  fortune,  it  was  more  than  suspected,  had  been 
filched  from  the  government  in  its  hour  of  deepest 
distress.  The  choice  of  the  Democratic  side  was  a 
man  who,  when  the  war  broke  out.  openly  aided  the 
Confederate  cause,  and  who  now  sympathized  with 
the  rum  interest  exactly  as  he  had  once  sympathized 
with  slavery.  This  being  the  character  of  the  two 
leading  candidates,  they,  with  the  factions  that  sup 
ported  them,  found  the  saloon  vote  a  necessity,  and 
thus  the  liquor  power  was  placed  in  the  embarrass 
ing  position  of  having  two  suitors,  either  one  too 
powerful  to  offend;  but  it  was  fully  equal  to  playing 
a  double  game  in  which  both  parties  were  made  to 


70  Between    Two   Opinions. 

truckle  to  it,  and  vie  with  each  other  in  their  gen 
eral  subserviency. 

The  prohibition  wave  in  Jacksonville  was  one  of 
those  phenomenal  tidal  movements  which  occur  as 
often  and  with  as  startling  an  effect  in  the  social  and 
political  as  in  the  natural  world.  The  saloonists, 
rendered  careless  by  long  security,  had  scarcely 
made  a  pretense  of  keeping  within  the  strict  letter 
of  the  law,  and  this  sudden  turn  in  popular  feeling 
surprised  them  too  completely  for  any  attempt  at 
organized  resistance. 

"We  must  have  a  grand  rally  at  the  polls,"  said 
Mr.  Basset,  who  dropped  in  one  morning  to  talk 
over  the  situation  with  Stephen  Howland.  "The 
ballot  is  the  only  argument  the  liquor  party  can  un 
derstand.  There's  nothing  like  keeping  people's 
minds  stirred  up  on  this  subject.  A  little  tempor 
ary  excitement  won't  do.  We  mustn't  stop  rowing 
till  we've  fairly  touched  shore." 

"Jacksonville  seems  to  be  stirred  up  pretty  well 
now,"  returned  Stephen.  "Such  a  case  as  that 
McLean  woman  burning  her  own  child  to  death 
ought  to  be  enough  to  wake  up  any  community  that 
calls  itself  Christian." 

"That  was  an  awful  thing,"  responded  Mr.  Basset 
feelingly.  "Now  we've  had  two  saloon  murders  in 
Jacksonville  in  less  than  a  year,  to  sa}T  nothing  of 
the  terrible  profanity  and  Sabbath  breaking.  Ini 
quity  runs  down  our  streets  like  a  river.  It  is  really 
dreadful  to  contemplate  such  a  state  of  things." 

"Well,  now,  Mr.  Basset,"  f?;iu]  Stephen,  candidly. 


Loaves  and  Fisltts.  71 

"I  have  not  been  altogether  satisfied  with  the  method 
pursued  thus  far.  For  m}'  part  I'm  tired  hunting 
down  small  vermin.  What  is  the  use  of  arresting 
such  men  as  Sm'der  and  shutting  up  their  drinking 
holes  while  all  the  restaurants  and  hotels  have  their 
open  or  secret  bar?  It  is  neither  justice  nor  policy. 
I  am  glad  they  have  planned  a  descent  on  Parker  of 
the  Phoenix  House,  for  it  is  safe  to  say  that  two- 
thirds  of  his  profits  come  from  the  liquor  he  sells, 
and  not  from  his  legitimate  business." 

"Ah!  I  hadn't  heard  they  were  going  to  arrest 
Parker.  But  of  course,"  added  Mr.  Basset,  quickly 
recovering  the  self-possession  which  this  informa 
tion  had  seemed  for  some  reason  to  momentarily 
disturb,  -it  is  always  best  to  be  thorough  in  the 
work  and  give  no  quarter  to  respectable  offenders." 

"I  appreciate  as  much  as  anj-body,"  resumed 
Stephen,  "the  necessity  of  making  a  good  show  at 
the  polls.  The  Prohibitionists  must  let  all  the  num 
erical  strength  they  have  got  be  felt,  but  I  don't 
think  it  reasonable  to  expect  to  carry  the  State  this 
3~ear.  We  are  working  for  principles,  and  principles 
triumph  slowly.  Prohibition  is  surely  coming,  but 
it  must  come  through  an  increasing  aggregate  of 
local  successes.  Even*  neighborhood  thoroughly 
stirred  up  on  this  question,  provided  the  interest  is 
not  allowed  to  abate,  makes  a  kind  of  nucleus  for 
reform;  and  when  we  get  a  sufficient  number  of 
them  they  will  carry  the  State.  Now  I  believe  if 
temperance  people  will  only  work  together  we  can 
carry  Jacksonville  for  no  license  this  year." 


72  Between    Two   Opinions. 

"Now  that's  exactly  my  idea,"  cheerfully  respond 
ed  Mr.  Basset,  as  he  took  his  departure.  "Reform, 
like  chanty,  must  begin  at  home." 

Stephen  sat  down  once  more  to  his  interrupted 
study  of  certain  complications  which  had  arisen  in 
one  of  the  liquor  cases  he  was  just  then  prosecut 
ing;  for,  without  any  seeking  of  such  honor,  he  had 
come  to  be  a  prominent  leader  in  the  movement  in 
Jacksonville,  and  was  already  engaged  as  one  of  the 
chief  speakers  at  a  meeting  to  be  held  a  few  days 
before  election  in  the  interests  of  the  temperance 
party.  He  was  young,  ambitious,  and  high-princi 
pled.  He  felt  that  he  was  engaged  in  a  glorious 
cause,  and  metaphorically  he  girded  on  his  armor 
and  longed  for  the  trumpet  to  sound  for  battle.  Mr. 
Basset  did  not  quite  suit  him.  He  thought  there 
was  a  great  deal  of  talk  in  him  to  very  little  action. 
Still  he  never  distrusted  his  sincerity.  Had  Stephen 
been  more  deeply  conversant  with  the  workings  of 
that  system  of  mingled  religion  and  morality  to 
which  he  had  so  recently  joined  himself,  he  would 
not  have  been  surprised  that  the  proprietor  of  the 
Phoenix  House  should  step  out — nobody  knew  where, 
nor  for  just  how  long — a  few  minutes  before  the 
raid  on  his  establishment:  from  which,  by  the  way, 
every  vestige  of  the  bar,  which  he  was  known  to 
keep  in  cool  disregard  of  the  terms  of  his  license, 
had  vanished  like  a  dream  in  the  night. 

Stephen  was  not  only  surprised,  he  was  disgust 
ed  and  wrathful,  the  more  so  that  another  prominent 
liquor-seller,  whose  conviction  he  had  looked  upon 


Loaves  and  Fishes.  73 

as  a  foregone  conclusion,  seemed  now  likely  to  es 
cape  through  certain  newly-discovered  technicalities 
of  the  law.  But  he  comforted  himself  with  the  old 
saying  that  it  is  an  ill  wind  that  blows  no  good. 
People  would  finally  learn  that  prohibition  pure  and 
simple  was  far  more  easil}*  enforced  than  the  most 
ingenious  license  law  whose  ramifications  were  only 
so  many  loopholes  through  which  the  liquor-seller 
could  slip  and-  thus  evade  conviction;  that  behind 
the  saloon  power  lay  a  masked  enemy  whose  arrows 
were  shot  in  secret,  an  argus-eyed  foe  that  never 
slumbered,  wily,  treacherous,  that  with  its  deluding 
ignis  fatui  was  leading  himself  and  others  a  fool's 
dance  over  bogs  and  morasses  foul  with  miasma  and 
death — this  was  an  idea  that  never  came  into  his 
head.  But  though  Stephen  did  not  know  why  so 
many  finely-laid  schemes  of  the  Prohibitionists 
went  "agley."  there  is  no  reason  for  keeping  the 
reader  in  like  ignorance. 

The  proprietor  of  the  Phoenix  House  was  an  Odd 
fellow  as  well  as  a  Mason,  having  joined  both  orders 
for  several  reasons.  In  the  first  place  he  wished  to 
shed  all  the  respectability  possible  on  his  traffic,  and 
he  knew  very  well  that  Odd-fellowship  was  consid 
ered  more  respectable  than  Masonry  by  a  large  class 
of  moral  and  Christian  people.  He  knew  also  that 
owing  to  the  close  and  beautiful  relationship  exist 
ing  between  the  two  he  would  get  more  advantage 
from  Masonry  by  being  an  Odd-fellow,  and  more  ad 
vantage  from  Odd-fellowship  by  being  a  Mason. 
That  he  was  right  in  this  opinion  the  sequel  will 


74  Between   Two   Opinions. 

show.  For  quite  in  a  neighborly  way  Mr.  Basset  ac 
costed  a  Masonic  acquaintance  whom  he  happened  to 
meet  a  few  steps  from  Stephen  Howland's  office,  and 
informed  him — all  as  a  mere  piece  of  friendly  gos 
sip — "that  Parker  stood  as  good  a  chance  to  be 
hauled  over  the  coals  as  any  of  the  common  saloon- 
ists,  and  he  knew  on  good  authorit}^  that  his  arrest 
was  already  planned."  Whereupon  his  Masonic 
friend  did  exactly  what  Mr.  Basset  supposed  and  ex 
pected  he  would  do — promptly  "warned"  the  hotel 
keeper  "of  impending  danger."  Nor  was  this  the 
first  time  that  Mr.  Basset  had  played  with  success 
the  rule  of  "Mr.  Facing-both-ways. "  He  had  once 
turned  a  lawsuit  in  favor  of  a  brother  Odd-fellow  by 
refusing  to  agree  with  the  other  jurymen  on  the  ver 
dict;  he  had  contrived  in  a  number  of  cases  to  have 
worthy  employes  turned  off  and  their  places  supplied 
by  men  who  could  sport  the  three  links  on  their 
shirt  fronts;  besides  otherwise  seeking  the  good  of 
the  order  by  a  system  of  vigorous  proselyting  that 
would  have  done  credit  to  an}r  olden  Pharisee  or 
Mormon  bishop. 

"But  a  Christian  man,  and  a  Prohibitionist  too — 
impossible!"  exclaims  the  astonished  reader.  Know, 
dear  sir,  or  dear  madam,  as  the  case  may  be,  that 
though  Mr.  Basset  was  a  temperance  man  he  was  an 
Odd-fellow  first,  and  he  held  his  Christianity  on  the 
same  secondary  principle.  He  believed  in  the 
church  as  a  highly  convenient  institution,  which,  as 
it  obligingly  took  in  all  that  numerous  class  that  the 
ark  of  Odd-fellow  salvation  passes  by,  could  not 


Loaves  and  Fishes.  75 

well  be  dispensed  with;  but  his  relative  valuation  of 
the  two  ma}*  be  inferred  from  the  fact  that  while  he 
was  seldom  or  never  absent  from  the  brethren  on 
lodge  nights  and  always  paid  his  dues  with  prompt 
ness,  he  was  invariable*  short  of  funds  when  called 
upon  to  aid  any  department  of  church  work,  and 
never  found  time  to  attend  the  prayer  meeting — a 
very  common  state  of  things  among  that  portion  of 
the  secret  fraternity  who  are  trying,  like  Mr.  Felix 
Basset,  to  play  the  part  of  the  scriptural  Issachar. 
But  lest  the  reader  should  look  upon  him  as  a  sin 
ner  above  all  other  men,  we  will  state  what  we  know 
to  be  a  veritable  fact:  that  the  keepers  of  two  resta 
urants  had  been  ;- warned"  in  like  fashion  only  the 
day  before,  by  a  Mason  who  was  also  a  Good  Tem 
plar,  and  as  such  had  been  freely  trusted  by  the  small 
but  determined  body  of  Prohibitionists  who  had  set 
out  to  suppress  the  illicit  saloons,  but  found  them 
selves  betrayed  without  am*  clue  to  the  traitor. 

Martin  Treworthy  laughed  sardonically  when  he 
heard  them  wonder  who  divulged  their  plan,  assert 
ing  that  the  liquor  power,  by  means  of  its  sworn 
Masonic  allies  scattered  up  and  down  through  the 
length  and  breadth  of  the  temperance  camp,  could 
hear  what  was  whispered  in  their  secret  chambers. 
He  had  said  the  same  thing  a  good  many  times  be 
fore  without  anybody's  heeding  or  laying  it  to  heart. 
and  with  the  grand  persistence  of  a  true  prophet- 
soul  he  was  willing  to  keep  on  saying  it  to  a  genera 
tion  that  only  mocked  and  despised  his  words. 

But  Jacksonville  was,  as  Stephen  expressed  it. 


76  Between   Two   Opinions. 

very  thoroughly  waked  up,  and  in  a  way  not  to  be 
mistaken  by  saloonist  or  Prohibitionist.  How  to 
allay  the  excitement  or  keep  it  at  fever  height  was 
the  respective  problem  discussed  by  each  with  very 
various  answers.  One  important  wing  of  the  Prohi 
bition  side  had  a  plan  of  their  own  concocted,  of 
which  we  shall  hear  more  anon.  Meanwhile  the  idea 
was  industriously  circulated  that  General  Putney 
was  a  temperance  man,  with  a  record  as  high  in  that 
respect  as  the  average,  and  consequently  temperance 
men  could  vote  for  him  without  sacrificing  either 
their  principles  or  their  standing  in  the  glorious  old 
party  that  had  abolished  slavery  and  saved  the 
Union.  Men  who  had  voted  with  that  party  from 
its  birth  hour,  to  whom  its  very  name  was  a  store 
house  of  glorious  memories  of  grand  deeds  and 
noble  leaders — gray-headed  men  who  still  loved  it, 
with  all  its  venality  and  corruption,  almost  as  a 
father  his  erring  first-born,  wavered,  glad  to  catch  at 
a  straw.  There  was  still  another  class  who  halted 
between  two  opinions — men  who  believed  in  prohi 
bition  and  wanted  to  see  it  triumph,  yet  could  not 
make  up  their  minds  to  leave  the  party  in  power  and 
thus  resign  all  expectation  of  office  or  preferment  at 
its  hands:  while  another  class,  still  more  numerous, 
comprised  the  floating  political  driftwood;  men  ready 
to  support  either  side  according  to  circumstances; 
men  with  votes  to  sell  and  willing  to  sell  them;  and 
men  with  principles,  but  deterred  from  taking  that 
unpopular  article  to  the  polls  by  the  newspapers  and 
stump  orators  with  their  black  prophecies  of  woe 


Loavts  and  Fishes.  77 

and  ruin  sure  to  follow  the  defeat  of  the  Republican 
party.  And  the}'  also  halted  between  two  opinions. 

Stephen  Rowland,  on  the  contrary,  had  no  party 
fetters  to  break.  He  believed  the  time  had  come 
for  all  true  men  to  separate  themselves  from  fac 
tional  interests  and  vote  only  for  candidates  that 
would  truly  represent  their  convictions;  and  we  will 
not  pretend  that  he  had  not  his  own  private,  yet 
most  worthy,  ambition  to  become  a  leader  in  this  new 
party  of  truth  and  righteousness.  So  he  stood  upon 
the  platform  primed  to  the  fingers'  ends  with  facts 
and  figures;  feeling  sure  that  truth,  invincible,  eter 
nal,  was  on  his  side,  and  with  a  great  deal  more 
faith  in  his  power  to  convince  the  crowd  before  him 
of  that  fact  than  if  he  had  been  a  little  older  or  a  lit 
tle  wiser.  But  though  composed  of  all  the  incon 
gruous  elements  mentioned  above,  it  was  a  good- 
natured  crowd,  ready  to  laugh  and  applaud  any 
specially  clever  hit;  and  Stephen  Rowland  had  the 
faculty  of  making  a  brilliant  off-hand  speech  on  al 
most  any  subject. 

"What  has  the  Republican  party  done?  I  ask,"  he 
said,  in  closing.  "You  point  to  the  broken  shackles 
of  four  million  slaves.  But  who  thirty  years  ago  in 
the  legislative  halls  of  this  very  State  voted  for  a 
law  that  should  rescind  every  hunted  fugitive,  man, 
woman,  or  child,  back  to  the  master  from  whose 
brutality  the}*  had  escaped,  and  made  it  a  penal  act 
to  offer  them  even  a  cup  of  cold  water  in  the  name 
of  our  common  Lord?  Who  but  the  very  man  on 
whom  the  Republican  party  of  this  State  now  pro- 


78  Between  Two   Opinions. 

poses  to  bestow  gubernatorial  honors!  You  point 
me  to  a  Union  preserved  through  seas  of  blood  and 
tears.  Far  be  it  from  me  to  speak  a  word  which 
should  be  a  blot  on  the  glorious  record;  but  who, 
while  ostensibly  serving  his  country  in  the  field,  was 
silent  partner  in  a  company  for  cheating  the  Govern 
ment  and  its  brave  defenders  with  shoddy  contracts? 
Again  I  repeat,  who  but  the  very  man  the  Republi 
can  party  now  delights  to  honor? 

"But  let  these  things  pass.  Time  is  a  great  con 
queror  of  prejudices,  and  the  gallant  General  is 
doubtless  on  the  way  to  make  as  good  a  Prohibition 
ist  as  he  is  now  an  anti-slavery  man.  Perhaps  the 
Republican  party  can  afford  to  wait  for  him.  It  is 
good  at  waiting.  [Laughter.]  It  has  done  nothing 
else  since  it  came  into  power;  but  the  people  can't 
wait.  This  red-handed  Herod  who  slaughtered  the 
innocents  must  be  dethroned  [applause];  and  what 
more  fitting  than  that  this  same  Republican  party 
which  dealt  the  death-blow  to  slavery  with  the  sword 
should  strangle  intemperance  at  the  ballot-box.  So 
we  have  said,  so  we  have  hoped  through  all  its  de 
lays,  its  compromises,  its  persistent  ignoring  of  the 
great  question  at  issue.  Like  the  mother  of  Sisera 
as  she  looked  through  the  lattice,  we  have  cried, 
'Why  is  his  chariot  so  long  in  coming?  Why  tarry 
the  wheels  of  his  chariot?'  And  the  wise  among  us 
have  answered;  yea,  we  have  returned  answer  to  our 
selves,  'Have  they  not  sped?  have  they  not  divided 
the  prey?'  [Laughter  and  applause.]  Yes;  that  is 
the  trouble.  Sisera  won  a  great  victory  a  score  of 


Loaves  and  Fishes.  79 

years  ago,  and  he  has  been  busy  dividing  the  spoil 
ever  since.  Meanwhile  shall  we  sit  still  while  an 
enemy  steals  the  wealth  of  our  nation,  desolates  our 
homes,  and  slays  not  its  tens  but  its  hundreds  of 
thousands,  or  quit  us  like  men,  like  freemen,  by 
casting  our  votes  to-morrow  for  Col.  Hicks  and  pro 
hibition? 

"What  we  want,  what  we  demand  of  the  Republi 
can  party,  is  present  action,  not  a  barren  record  of 
past  achievements,  however  glorious.  This  want  re 
mains  unmet.  This  demand  has  been  received  with 
open  or  silent  contempt.  It  has  quarreled  over 
office  spoils,  split  hairs  over  the  tariff  question,  and 
passed  bills  to  restrict  Chinese  emigration;  but  on 
the  monstrous  evil  of  the  liquor  traffic,  an  evil  which 
is  eating  out  the  very  vitals  of  our  nation,  it  has 
nothing  to  say.  Parties  die,  principles  live.  The 
Republican  party  totters  to-day  on  the  brink  of  dis 
solution,  but  the  sublime  doctrines  enunciated  by 
her  first  leaders  cannot  die.  They  are  everlasting  as 
eternity.  When  men  are  dead  we  bury  them;  when 
parties  are  dead  we  do  or  should  do  the  same — 
whether  in  hopes  of  a  future  immortality  must  de 
pend  in  either  case  on  the  question  whether  they 
have  lived  worthy  of  that  immortality.  I,  for  one, 
have  a  great  deal  of  faith  in  the  Republican  party, 
so  much  that  I  can  help  bun*  it  without  a  tear  in  the 
firm  belief  that  it  will  rise  again  [applause]  baptized 
with  a  new  name,  its  mantle  of  old  corruptions 
dropped,  and  animated  once  more  with  the  spirit  of 
its  early  founders.  As  one  on  whom  a  double  por- 


80  Between  Two  Opinions. 

tion  of  that  spirit  has  fallen,  I  name  the  Prohibition 
nominee  for  the  governorship  of  this  State,  Colonel 
Gail  Hicks — a  man  in  all  respects  worthy  the  sup 
port  of  every  true  citizen.  I  call  upon  all  such 
without  any  regard  to  previous  political  affiliations 
to  go  to  the  polls  resolved  to  vote,  not  for  a  party 
but  a  man,  not  for  the  saloon  but  the  home,  not  for 
the  lie  of  the  rumseller  but  the  truth  of  God,  not  for 
license  but  for  prohibition." 

There  had  been  slight  attempts  at  disturbance 
from  the  license  element,  which,  however,  did  not 
amount  to  much  beyond  a  few  groans  and  hisses 
that  were  effectually  silenced  in  loud  and  long  con 
tinued  applause  when  the  young  orator  ended  his 
speech. 

"Good  timber  in  that  fellow  now,"  muttered  Mar 
tin  Treworthy,  who  stood  in  the  crowd,  flashing  keen 
approval  from  beneath  his  shaggy  eyebrows,  while 
Nelson  Newhall  close  by  was  contributing  his  share 
to  the  burst  of  acclamation  with  an  enthusiasm  not 
to  be  mistaken. 

The  next  to  occupy  the  platform  was  Col.  Mor 
rison,  editor  of  the  Jacksonville  Patriot,  a  stirring 
Decoration-day  orator,  a  Mason,  and  a  Grand  Army 
man.  He  perfectly  agreed  with  the  position  taken 
by  the  first  speaker  in  regard  to  the  rum  traffic.  He 
was  a  Prohibitionist  to  the  backbone,  but  did  not  be 
lieve  that  the  Republican  party  was  dead  or  in  a 
dying  condition.  It  was  still  sound  at  the  core  for 
all  the  abuses  and  corruptions  of  party  managers. 
If  brought  back  to  the  purity  of  first  principles  it 


Loaves  and  Fishes.  81 

could  extinguish  intemperance  as  easily  as  it  had 
slavery;  and  he  put  it  to  their  common  sense — one 
could  always  trust  the  common  sense  of  an  Ameri 
can  audience  even  in  the  fever  of  political  excite 
ment — whether  prohibition  would  come  soonest  by 
working  for  it  in  the  ranks  of  an  old  and  established 
party,  or  by  joining  a  third,  which,  as  it  lacked  all 
the  elements  of  popularity  and  strength,  must  be 
years  in  achieving  even  a  doubtful  success.  For  his 
part  he  preferred  the  half  loaf  to  no  loaf  at  all. 
Why  give  their  votes  to  the  Democratic  nominee  and 
thus  help  to  secure  a  triumph  for  the  saloon?  Gen 
eral  Putney  had  been  caluminated  by  his  political 
enemies,  and  these  calumnies  he  was  sorry  to  hear 
repeated  by  the  eloquent  young  speaker  who  had 
preceded  him.  He  could  state  from  personal  knowl 
edge  that  General  Putney  was  a  consistent  temper 
ance  man,  who  could  be  depended  on  to  enforce  the 
law.  True,  he  had  once  voted  a  pro-slavery  bill  in  a 
pro-slavery  era.  That  era  had  passed  forever  along 
with  the  days  of  witchcraft  in  which  the  good  and 
learned  Puritan,  Judge  Sewell,  knew  no  better  than 
to  commit  judicial  murder.  Let  him  who  had  no 
sin  of  ignorance  to  answer  for  cast  the  first  stone." 

uThe  Colonel  means  to  be  elected  Representative 
to  Congress  next  year,''  said  Martin  Treworthy,  in 
another  grim  aside.  "Xo  half  loaf  of  prohibition 
for  him,  but  a  longer  nibble  at  the  whole  loaves  and 
fishes  of  the  Republican  party." 

The  next  speaker.  Dr.  Haynesworth,  agreed  with 
all  the  main  points  of  Col.  Morrison's  speech,  and 


82  Between   Two   Opinions. 

could  confirm  his  statements  by  remarking  that  he 
had  been  told  only  the  day  before  by  one  of  the 
most  prominent  of  the  Prohibition  leaders  that  he 
was  in  constant  correspondence  with  the  General 
and  could  vouch  for  his  temperance  principles. 

"There  is  treachery,  0  Ahaziah!"  muttered  Mar 
tin  under  his  breath.  "But  this  ain't  the  first  time 
I've  known  the  leader  of  one  hostile  army  to  be  in 
correspondence  with  the  other  side." 

The  doctor  deprecated  discord  between  brethren. 
Prohibitionists  should  wear  the  same  colors  or  there 
was  continual  danger  of  mistaking  each  other  with 
fatal  results  to  the  cause.  He  would  be  willing  to 
work  for  a  third  party  if  temperance  men  every 
where  would  join  it,  but  as  a  matter  of  fact  the  large 
majority  were  faithful  to  old  political  friendships; 
and  he  was  more  and  more  convinced  that  no  better 
standing-place  for  union  could  be  found  than  that 
same  Republican  party  in  which  the}'  had  been  nur 
tured,  which  had  once  so  gloriously  lead  the  van 
guard  of  Reform,  and  might  again.  And  he  drew 
such  a  glowing  picture  of  that  happy  time  when  all 
differences,  forgotten  in  the  joy  of  victory,  high 
license  and  low  license  men,  prohibitionists  and 
moral  suasionists,  should  lie  down  together  like  the 
lion  and  the  lamb  of  prophecy,  that  it  provoked  an 
other  side  remark  from  Martin  Tre worthy: 

"This  is  going  to  be  like  the  witches'  cauldron" — 
for,  unlettered  backwoodsman  though  he  was,  Martin 
kept  a  copy  of  Shakespeare  in  his  hermitage,  which 
he  occasionally  studied  in  the  intervals  between  his 


Loaves  and  Fishes.  83 

Bible  and  his  newspaper — "  -black  spirits  and  white, 
white  spirits  and  gray,  mingle,  mingle,  ye  that  min 
gle  may.'  An  out-and-out  speech  for  prohibition 
might  ruin  his  chance  to  be  mayor." 

Stephen  had  been  led  to  suppose  that  all  the 
speakers  would  be  unanimous  for  a  third  party,  and 
he  was  simply  astonished  at  this  unexpected  change 
of  base.  He  felt  that  he  had  been  treated  ipfairly, 
for  though  he  would  not  have  altered  his  speech  one 
iota,  had  he  known  beforehand  what  was  to  be  the 
tenor  of  the  other  addresses,  it  would  have  prevent 
ed  his  speaking  at  all  and  thus  saved  him  from  the 
awkwardness  of  having  to  defend  his  position  among 
assumed  friends.  But  to  hear  this  weak  apologizing 
for  party  corruption  and  misrule  added  a  feeling  of 
shame  and  disgust  to  his  sense  of  injury;  and  when 
the  climax  was  reached  by  claiming  General  Putney 
as  a  temperance  man,  his  old  lie-hating,  truth-loving 
Puritan  blood  stirred  within  him.  When  he  at 
tempted  to  answer,  however,  there  was  a  scene  of 
tumult  between  the  saloon  element  which  sought  to 
prevail  by  dint  of  noise,  and  the  cries  of  "Go  on.'' 
"Give  it  to  'em,'r  and  sundry  similar  exclamations 
from  the  third  party  men,  who  knew  their  champion 
when  they  saw  him,  complicated  still  more  b}~  a  set 
tled  disposition  on  the  part  of  the  managers  of  the 
meeting  to  make  him  reply  at  a  disadvantage  by  al 
lowing  him  onh'  five  minutes,  on  the  pretence  that 
there  were  a  number  of  others  yet  to  speak. 

But  Stephen  bethought  himself  of  a  certain  news 
paper  paragraph  which  had  attracted  his  attention 


84  Between   Two   Opinions. 

sufficiently  to  be  saved,  as  just  the  thing  to  turn  the 
tables  on  these  political  time-servers.  So  quietly 
remarking  that  he  believed  it  to  be  one  of  the  laws 
of  parliamentary  usage  that  he  who  makes  the  open 
ing  speech  should  also  make  the  closing  one,  he 
waited  till  all  had  said  their  say,  including  one  or 
two  rather  discouraged  advocates  for  a  third  party, 
followed  by  another  seeker  after  loaves  and  fishes, 
who  devoted  himself  to  picking  up  the  chips  in  the 
wake  of  Morrison  and  Haynesworth.  Stephen  then 
rose  to  his  feet  and  simply  observed  that  as  there 
seemed  much  confusion  of  opinion  as  to  General 
Putney's  prohibition  principles,  he  would,  to  set  all 
doubts  at  rest,  read  his  own  testimony  on  that  point 
at  a  recent  political  gathering:  "The  time  has  not 
come  for  us  to  take  up  the  temperance  issue  with 
safety,  and  I  repeat  once  more  I  am  not  in  sympathy 
with  the  fanatics  who  are  trying  to  force  this  question 
on  the  Republican  party ,  knowing  that  it  will  bring 
disruption  if  not  absolute  ruin  thereto," 

Stephen  read  this  from  the  slip  of  paper  which  he 
held  in  his  hand,  and  then  paused  for  a  moment  be 
fore  adding:  "Gentlemen,  you  have  now  the  witness 
of  his  own  mouth  that  he  cares  less  to  protect  the 
homes  of  the  nation  than  to  protect  a  party,  and 
more  for  the  votes  of  the  liquor  interest  than  the 
wail  of  its  murdered  victims.  But  their  cries  have 
entered  into  the  ears  of  the  Lord  God  of  Sabaoth, 
and 

•E'en  now  from  lone  Mount  Gerizim  and  Ebal's  starry  crown, 
We  call  the  dews  of  blessing  or  the  bolts  of  cursing  down,' 


Loaves  and  Fishes.  85 

The  question  of  the  hour  confronts  us.  As  free 
American  citizens  what  answer  shall  we  give?  Shall 
we  put  our  necks  under  part}'  yokes  and  cower  be 
fore  the  crack  of  party  whips,  or  shall  we  assert  our 
blood-bought  right  to  vote  as  we  choose,  asking  no 
consent  from  political  demagogues?  It  stands  be 
fore  us  like  the  Sphinx,  and  it  will  not  down  at  the 
bidding  of  fear  or  interest.  That  question  has  got 
to  be  answered.  Every  election  da}*  it  will  stand  by 
the  ballot-box  sterner  and  more  awful  till  we  are 
compelled — a  word  for  slaves,  not  for  freemen — a}~e, 
compelled  to  answer  it  one  way  or  the  other.  Oh.  for 
a  voice  that  shall  go  forth  to-morrow  from  every 
voting  precinct  in  this  State,  and  sound  like  the 
trump  of  doom  in  the  ears  of  -them  that  build  a 
town  with  blood  and  establish  a  city  by  iniquity.' 
but  clear  as  the  clarion  of  victory  and  tender  as  the 
voices  of  pitying  angels  in  the  hearts  and  homes 
made  desolate  by  the  liquor  traffic:  -Down  with  this 
giant  abomination,  down  with  legalized  robbery  and 
murder  under  the.  name  of  license !  But  up  with 
the  snow-white  banner  of  Prohibition !  Fling  it  wide 
to  the  breeze  with  the  name  of  the  noblest  of  her 
leaders  blazoned  upon  it,  the  name  of  Col.  Grail 
Hicks.  And  may  G-od  forever  speed  the  right.'" 

Stephen  stopped,  his  whole  frame  quivering  like  a 
racer's  at  the  goal.  His  ingenious  flank  movement 
had  succeeded.  Those  who  had  hoped  to  see  the 
meeting  end  as  it  had  at  one  time  threatened  to,  in  a 
ridiculous  fizzle,  were  doomed  to  disappointment 

"If  he  didn't  floor  them  fellows  handsomely,  now," 


86  Between  Two  Opinions. 

chuckled  Martin  Trewortlry.  "A  sight  of  their  faces 
was  worth  all  the  specie  in  my  tin  box." 

"Well,  I  must  say  I'm  disappointed  in  Colonel 
Morrison/'  replied  Nelson,  discontentedly.  To  stand 
up  for  prohibition  and  Putney  in  the  same  breath  is 
'good  Lord  and  good  devil'  with  a  vengeance." 

"Oh,  it  only  shows  how  well  the  Masonic  lodge  is 
educating  our  politicians,"  returned  Martin,  with  a 
grim  smile.  "The  result  is,  they  stay  politicians. 
They  can't  grow  into  statesmen  under  lodge  training 
no  more  than  the  dwarf  trees  that  I've  read  the 
Chinese  raise  in  thimbles  can  grow  into  real  oaks 
and  elms." 

"But  all  our  public  men  are  not  Masons,"  objected 
Nelson. 

"No;  but  the  lodge  influence  goes  everywhere  like 
malaria,  and  they  can't  help  breathing  it  in,  and 
then  good,  simple  souls  wonder  what  ails  Congress 
that  we  have  such  crooked  goings  on — back  salary 
grabs,  and  Credit  Mobilier  schemes,  and  Star  Route 
swindles,  and  nobody  knows  wha.t  else.  They  can't 
imagine  why  there  is  so  much  boss  rule  and  party 
spirit  and  so  little  patriotism;  so  much  cheating  of 
the  government  and  so  little  common  honesty;  so 
much  practical  infidelity  and  so  little  practical  Chris 
tianity.  Now,  Nelson,  you  are  a  sensible  fellow  on 
the  whole,  and  I  want  you  to  look  at  this  thing  just 
as  it  stands.  The  lodge  takes  three  dollars 
from  each  of  its  members  where  it  pays  out  one 
to  help  them  in  return.  What  is  that  but  a 
lesson  in  swindling?  Then  it  puts  on  a  great 


Loaves  and  Fishes.  87 

show  of  piety  and  religion,  and  calls  it  benevolence. 
That  is  lesson  in  hypocrisy  number  two.  It  de 
mands  obedience  to  all  its  laws  and  requirements, 
and  no  questions  asked.  There  is  lesson  in  boss 
rule  number  three.  It  refuses  to  expel  a  traitor  to 
his  country — Jeff  Davis  or  Benedict  Arnold,  it 
makes  no  difference  which — because  treason  is  not  a 
Masonic  sin.  There  is  lesson  in  disloyalty  number 
four.  It  tears  Christ's  name  from  his  own  New  Tes 
tament  and  preaches  another  gospel.  There  is  les 
son  in  infidelity  number  five.  And  so  I  might  go 
on  to  the  end  of  the  chapter.  Will  politicians 
trained  in  such  principles,  think  you,  sacrifice  a  jot 
of  their  self-interest  to  put  down  all  the  saloons  in 
the  land?  Do  men  gather  grapes  of  thorns  or  figs 
of  thistles?  Do  you  think  we  can  have  the  lodge  in 
every  city  and  village  and  town  and  not  have  to  take 
the  fruit  of  the  lodge  along  with  it?  Can  we  sow 
the  wind  and  not  reap  the  whirlwind?  Yes;  if  his 
tory  and  the  Bible  can  go  back  on  their  own  records 
and  contradict  themselves.  But  that  ain't  a  thin^ 

t> 

they  are  likely  to  do  in  a  hurry,  thank  the  Lord! 
not  even  to  please  the  politicians." 

Nelson  Newhall  turned  awa}~  in  gloomy  silence. 
His  sanguine  hopes  of  an  overwhelming  prohibition 
vote  had  fallen  to  zero.  Even  the  young  lawyer's 
fiery  eloquence  had  failed  to  make  the  meeting  any 
thing  but  a  wet  blanket  on  the  prohibition  cause, 
and  he  felt  uncomfortably  sure  that  the  leaders,  for 
reasons  of  their  own,  had  so  intended  it  from  the 
beginning.  Like  King  David,  he  wns  ready  to  say 


88  Between   Two   Opinions. 

in  his  haste,  "All  men  are  liars."  He  was  besides 
conscious  of  feeling  half  impatient  with  his  old 
friend,  which  added  a  slight  touch  of  compunction 
to  his  sense  of  discomfort,  for  he  loved  and  rever 
enced  Martin  Treworthy,  and  only  wished  he  was  not 
such  a  fanatic  on  the  lodge  question.  Were  there 
no  paramount  issue  to  be  met  it  might  be  well 
enough  to  discuss  it,  but  prohibition  was  the  ques 
tion  of  the  hour,  and  it  was  nonsense  to  think  that 
any  other  issue  could  be  prior  to  it  in  magnitude  or 
importance. 

So  reasoned  Nelson  Newhall.     Whether  he  was 
right  or  wrong  the  sequel  of  this  story  will  show. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

A   NEW   FACTOR   IN   POLITICS. 

The  morning  of  election  day  rose  in  a  chill  mist, 
a  perplexing,  uncertain  mist  which  might  roll  away 
by  nine  o'clock  A.  M.  and  leave  a  clear  sky,  or  might 
with  equal  probabilit}-  grow  denser  and  darker  and 
finally  settle  into  a  downright  storm.  In  one  sense 
it  was  very  appropriate  weather,  for  it  exactly  rep 
resented  the  political  sky  as  it  appeared  to  many  a 
voter — Nelson  Newhall  for  one.  His  first  conscious 
thought  on  waking  was  the  election,  and  yet  for 
ordinary  politics  he  did  not  care  the  snap  of  his  fin 
ger.  It  is  only  as  we  look  at  them  through  the 
small  end  of  our  object  glass,  that  is  to  sa}~,  the  lens 
of  our  own  private  hopes  and  fears,  that  political 
questions  assume  large  proportions.  Nelson  New- 
hall  was  a  common  working  man  to  whom  the  sup 
pression  of  the  liquor  business  had  grown  to  be  a 
vital  subject,  for  it  meant  not  only  release  from  a 
constant,  wearing  anxiety,  but  the  temporal  and  eter 
nal  welfare  of  one  to  whom  he  was  bound  by  ties 
that  in  their  protecting  tenderness  were  almost  ma 
ternal. 

He  sprang  out  of  bed  and  began  hastily  dressing 
himself,  making  as  little  noise  as  possible  that  he 
might  not  waken  his  still  sleeping  brother.  But  the 


90  Between    Two   Opinions. 

latter  stirred  and  began  to  cough.  In  an  instant 
Nelson  was  bending  over  him. 

"I  hoped  I  shouldn't  disturb  you,  Tom.  I  will 
get  you  a  spoonful  of  your  cough  medicine  and  then 
perhaps  you  will  go  to  sleep  again.  It  is  very  early 
yet." 

He  measured  out  a  spoonful  of  the  syrup  and  ad 
ministered  it  as  deftly  as  a  woman;  then  he  built 
up  the  fire  which  seemed  to  share  in  the  general  de 
pression  and  needed  much  coaxing  to  boil  the 
chocolate  or  toast  the  bread,  for  Nelson  always  pre 
pared  his  own  breakfast  and  his  invalid  brother's 
before  going  to  work.  Tom,  though  much  better, 
was  still  feeble.  On  bright,  warm  days  when  his 
cough  did  not  trouble  him  much  he  would  drag  him 
self  down  stairs  and  sit  in  the  sun,  finding  amuse 
ment  in  the  society  of  their  landlady's  children;  and 
she,  a  buxom,  motherly,  Scotch-Irish  woman,  cheer 
fully  agreed  "to  look  after  him  a  little,"  while  Nel 
son  was  absent  in  the  shop. 

"He  ain't  a  bit  more  trouble  than  a  chip  sparrow, 
Mr.  Newhall,  and  he  keeps  the  children  so  still  I'm 
sure  it  is  a  real  favor  to  me  to  have  him  round.  I 
had  a  brother  once  that  was  something  like  him — 
the  quietest,  gentlest  soul  that  ever  G-od  made,  if  he 
didn't  know  quite  as  much  as  most  folks.  Many's 
the  time  I've  wished  I  was  as  near  the  kingdom  as 
poor  brother  Sandy." 

And  good  Mrs.  McG-owan  wiped  away  a  tear  with 
the  corner  of  her  apron  while  Nelson  responded 
gratefully:  "Tom  has  but  one  failing,  and  you  know 


A  New  Factor  in  Politics.  91 

what  that  is,  Mrs.  McGowan.  But  I  don't  think  he 
is  half  as  much  to  blame  as  the  men  who  make  and 
sell  the  cursed  stuff,  or  those  in  power  who  are  will 
ing  for  the  sake  of  a  little  more  revenue  to  li 
cense  it" 

"Just  what  I've  always  stood  to,  Mr.  Xewhall.  I 
say  that  mone}*  got  in  that  wa}~  is  blood  money,  and 
if  it  is  enough  to  make  a  man  lose  his  soul,  I  can't 
see  for  my  part  how  government  can  take  it  and  ex 
pect  to  prosper." 

Airs.  McGowan  was  a  woman  and  unversed  in 
political  subtleties.  Furthermore,  she  was  a  good 
Presbyterian  who  made  a  conscience  of  reading  her 
Bible  straight  through  in  course — not  skipping  one 
of  its  terrible  burning  words  against  those  '-who  de 
cree  unrighteous  decrees,"  "who  build  up  Zion  with 
blood  and  Jerusalem  with  iniquity;"  and  the  reader 
must  excuse  her  if  she  had  not  yet  attained  to  the 
broader  and  more  enlightened  views  of  some  of  our 
modern  statesmen. 

Martha  Benson,  when  she  stitched  the  burial  robe 
for  the  murdered  innocent  whose  little  life  had  gone 
out  in  such  cruel  tortures,  felt  every  holy  instinct  of 
womanhood  rise  in  revolt  against  this  awful  traffic 
in  human  anguish.  And  as  womanhood  is  pretty 
much  the  same  the  world  over,  the  sacred  fires  of  a 
noble  indignation  and  a  brave  purpose  to  do  what 
they  could  were  burning  in  many  other  hearts — that 
fire  from  the  Lord  which  first  kindled  the  Woman's 
Crusade,  that  flashed  like  a  meteor  and  was  gone, 
yet  not  before  it  had  kindled  in  its  turn  a  flame  that 


92  Between    Two   Opinions. 

has  gone  on  increasing  till  now  it  lights  the  whole 
country  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific. 

The  Woman's  Christian  Temperance  Union  has 
come  to  be  a  recognized  power.  Politicians  may 
coolly  ignore  its  inconvenient  requests  and  snub  the 
petitioners.  None  the  less  do  they  tremble  before 
the  oncoming  tread  of  the  Divine  Deliverer  who  has 
sent  before  his  face  these  silver-tongued  messengers, 
saying  to  the  haughty  Pharaoh  of  the  liquor  traffic, 
"Let  my  people  go  that  they  may  serve  me."  With 
their  simple  weapons  of  faith  and  prayer  they  have 
wrought  miracles.  We  of  this  present  century  can 
not  estimate  the  full  scope  and  power  of  the  move 
ment.  We  are  too  near;  but  the  coming  generations 
will  see  it  as  it  reall}r  is,  in  many  respects  the  grand 
est,  the  most  unique  of  all  those  moral  and  spiritual 
revolutions  that  have  stirred  modern  Christendom. 

Nelson  knew  that  a  band  of  white-ribbon  workers 
had  been  organized  in  Jacksonville  to  meet  the  ap 
proaching  crisis,  for  so  Martha  had  informed  him, 
adding  with  a  smile  and  an  arch  shake  of  her  finger, 
"You  men  will  find  out  after  awhile  that  you  can't 
get  along  without  us  women.  Politics  have  got  into 
the  muddle  they  are  in  now  by  a  law  of  nature,  just 
as  a  house  will  get  to  be  dust  and  cobwebs  from  top 
to  bottom  when  there  are  no  women  to  wield  the 
broom  and  the  scrubbing-brush." 

"Well,  Martha,  God  knows  I  would  be  willing  to 
have  the  women  vote  if  they  could  help  us  get  rid  of 
this  rum  curse;  but  as  things  are  I  don't  really  see 
how  they  are  going  to  accomplish  much." 


A  New  Factor  in  Politics.  93 

"We  can  pray." 

'  The  words  leaped  from  Martha's  lips  like  an  in 
spiration — so  suddenly  that  Nelson  felt  for  a  mo 
ment  as  if  a  supernatural  voice  had  spoken.  "Was 
there  not  such  a  thing  as  a  divine  lever  -which 
moves  the  hand  that  moves  the  world?"  and  was 
there  not  a  bare  possibility  that  the  weakest  woman 
laying  hold  of  God's  eternal  strength  was  mightier 
than  he,  "the  sovereign  citizen"  at  the  ballot-box? 
Nelson  believed  in  prayer,  but  the  atmosphere  of  the 
workshop  had  covered  his  faith  with  a  coating  of 
something  a  little  more  like  skepticism  than  he 
would  have  been  willing  to  own.  If  he  could  have 
accompanied  Martha,  as  the  reader  is  privileged  to 
do,  that  gray,  foggy  November  morning  into  the 
vestry  of  the  First  Presbyterian  church  in  Jackson 
ville,  he  might  have  had  his  faith  strengthened,  and 
even  discerned  a  gleam  of  light  in  the  political  hori 
zon,  cloudy  as  it  appeared. 

The  little  throng  before  us,  composed  entire!}-  of 
the  non-voting  sex.  who,  perhaps  for  the  very  reason 
that  the}'  are  excluded  from  expressing  their  con 
victions  at  the  ballot-box  speak  them  all  the  more 
eloquently  and  freely  in  the  ears  of  Infinite  Justice, 
contains  a  few  faces  that  are  a  study — sweet  with  the 
pathos  of  a  nameless  endurance,  beautiful  with  those 
fine  heroic  lines  that  only  start  out  under  the  chisel 
of  a  life-long  sorrow.  Yonder,  for  instance,  sits  one 
who  for  ten  wretched  years  felt  the  iron  of  a  great 
legalized  wrong  enter  into  her  soul;  but,  womanlike, 
all  her  sorrow  was  swallowed  up  in  joy  when  her 


94  Between   Two   Opinions. 

husband,  a  man  of  education  and  brilliant  talents, 
reformed  and  even  began  to  win  some  reputation  as 
a  popular  temperance  lecturer.  But  one  night  he 
failed  to  meet  his  engagement;  was  missing  forty- 
eight  hours,  and  then  brought  home  dying.  King 
Alcohol  had  recaptured  and  this  time  slain  his  vic 
tim;  but  it  was  in  a  properly-licensed  saloon,  and 
with  liquor  that  had  paid  its  lawful  share  of  the  gov 
ernment  tax,  and  what  could  be  said  except  that  it 
was  all  legal  and  constitutional?  Only  this  woman 
believed  like  poor  Chloe,  when  her  husband  was 
sold  South  to  die  under  the  slave- whip,  that  "thar 
was  suthin'  wrong  about  it  somewhar;"  and  singular 
ly  enough  it  did  not  reconcile  her  in  the  least  to 
know  that  the  price  of  his  blood  had  added  a  few 
cents  less  or  more  to  the  nation's  treasury. 

And  here  sits  a  noble-looking  woman  clad  in 
Quaker  gray,  with  shining  silver  curls  framing  a 
dear,  motherly  face  as  bright  and  peaceful  as  the 
new  moon  when  it  rises  over  the  hill-tops  on  a  sum 
mer  night.  Yet  hers  had  been  a  trial  by  fire.  This 
Christian  mother  had  one  son  whom  she  taught  to 
say,  "Our  Father,"  and  "Now  I  lay  me  down  to 
sleep,"  morning  and  night;  whose  tottering  steps  she 
guided  to  the  house  of  G-od,  and  into  whose  young 
mind  she  labored  to  instill  all  right  and  pure  and 
holy  principles.  But,  alas !  the  drink  taint  was  in  his 
blood  and  he  fell — fell  into  a  deeper  abyss  of  degra 
dation  and  ruin  for  those  sun-crowned  heights  where 
a  mother's  love  had  placed  him.  He  rests  to-day  in 
a  drunkard's  grave.  It  is  all  over — the  long,  mid- 


A  New  Factor  in  Polities.  95 

night  vigils,  the  tears,  the  agonies  of  prayer.  She 
has  been  robbed  of  her  boy,  and  the  liquor  traffic 
under  the  shield  of  law  has  done  it. 

Near  by  sits  another  who  has  suffered  cold  and 
hunger  and  abuse,  yet  through  it  all  has  clung  to  her 
drunken  brute  of  a  husband  instead  of  taking  the 
advice  of  friends'  who  urge  a  legal  separation;  for 
after  all  there  are  times  when  the  brute  is  a  man, 
when  the  light  of  the  old  affection  is  in  his  eyes,  and 
he  weeps  over  the  past  and  makes  all  kinds  of  vows 
for  the  future — and  she?  well,  she  half  believes  him, 
knowing  all  the  while  the}*  are  vows  written  on  the 
shifting  sand.  Of  course  she  is  a  fool,  but  haven't 
you,  dear  lady,  who  "wouldn't  for  the  world  live  with 
a  drunken  husband  and  don't  think  it  is  an}*  woman's 
duty  to,"  read  somewhere  of  a  divine  foolishness 
that  confounds  all  earthly  wisdom?  In  spite  of  the 
doctrine  zealously  advocated  by  many  of  the  polit 
ical  prophets  of  our  day.  that  '-prohibition  don't  pro 
hibit,"  this  woman  labors  under  the  singular  delus 
ion  that  her  husband  would  not  drink  if  there  were 
no  saloons.  And  so  she  has  come  here  to-day  ready 
to  add  her  mite  of  prayer  and  effort,  though  not  the 
weight  of  a  finger  may  she  or  her  sister  sufferers  lay 
on  that  onl}*  lever  which  can  move  law  and  law-mak 
ers  out  of  the  ruts  of  legalized  evil — the  ballot-box. 

Others  there  are  from  comfortable  and  happ}*,  even 
luxurious  homes,  large-hearted,  refined,  noble  Chris 
tian  women  who  have  heard,  over  all  the  demands  of 
pleasure  and  fashion,  the  bugle  call  of  duty,  and 
sprung  to  answer  it  with  no  half-hearted  zeal — 


96  Between    Two   Opinions. 

women  that  are  known  in  their  respective  social  cir 
cles  as  prudent  managers,  careful  mothers,  and  faith 
ful  wives.  But  we  need  not  spend  more  time  in  in 
troductions.  This  is  the  Jacksonville  branch  of  the  * 
W.  C.  T.  U.,  who  having,  as  we  hinted  in  the  last 
chapter,  a  plan  of  their  own  for  election  day,  are  here 
met  to  spend  a  few  brief  moments- in  prayer  before 
the  opening  of  the  polls  will  leave  them  free  to  put 
it  in  execution. 

Meanwhile  we  are  not  unconscious  of  a  host  of 
grumblers  and  objectors  at  our  elbow.  "I  don't 
hold  to  such  things,"  remarks  very  decidedly  a  gen 
tleman  on  our  right.  "I  don't  believe  in  a  woman's 
neglecting  her  husband  and  children  to  go  gallivant 
ing  round  the  country  holding  temperance  conven 
tions." 

We  notice  that  the  gentleman  wears  the  three 
links  of  the  I.  0.  0.  F.  conspicuous^  displayed  on 
his  watch-chain,  and  a  little  bird  of  the  air  takes  oc 
casion  to  whisper  in  our  ear  that  his  invalid  wife  is 
left  to  long  evenings  of  uncheered  solitude  while  her 
husband  is  at  the  lodge,  generally  detained  to  a  late 
hour  on  important  business. 

But  let  us  hear  Mrs.  Orderly. 

"At  this  hour  in  the  morning  these  women  ought 
to  find  enough  to  do  at  home.  A  pretty  slight  their 
kitchen  must  be  in!" 

Not  so  fast,  my  dear  madam.  Did  you  never  at 
the  call  of  pleasure  or  duty  leave  your  own  domestic 
establishment  to  run  itself  for  a  day,  secure  in  the 
thought  that  ever}T  necessary  preparation  had  been 


A  New  Factor  in  Politics.  97 

made  and  ever}'  needful  direction  been  given  the 
night  before?  All  this  a  woman  may  do  to  go  to  a 
picnic;  but  reform  work,  especial!}'  if  it  trenches  on 
the  forbidden  realm  of  politics — oh,  that  is  another 
thing. 

But  these  women  of  the  W.  C.  T.  U.  are  actually- 
preparing  to  go  to  the  polls  and  persistently  urge 
ever}'  voter,  seconding  their  persuasions  by  cups  of 
the  most  excellent  tea  and  coffee,  to  vote  for  "no 
license."  And  strong  in  their  faith  and  courage  they 
are  willing  to  even  encounter  the  tide  of  profanity 
and  tobacco-spitting  at  the  ballot-box,  from  which  the 
respectable,  easy-going  male  citizen  is  so  apt  to 
shrink  back  into  his  comfortable  home  privacy, 
feebly  crying,  "Have  me  excused."  These  women 
are  not  partisans  nor  politicians,  yet  all  their  labors 
and  prayers  and  hopes  are  with  the  minority  that 
from  a  feeble  beginning  have  risen  to  hold  the  bal 
ance  of  power  between  the  two  contending  factions 
that  are  now  bidding  for  the  vote  of  the  saloons; 
and  by  interviewing  local  candidates  and  pressing 
the  claims  of  prohibition  on  young  or  doubtful  vot 
ers  they  have  done  work  in  a  quiet  way  which  will 
tell  in  the  election  returns.  They  mean  to  have 
Jacksonville  a  no-license  town,  and  at  the  same  time 
they  are  painfully  aware — for  some  of  these  good 
women  have  sons — how  inadequate  is  local  option  to 
the  real  needs  of  the  case. 

"For  my  part  I  think  mothers  would  do  more  to 
stop  intemperance  by  staying  at  home  and  training 
their  children,"  says  a  voice  at  our  left;  and  as  a 


98  Between   Two   Opinions. 

general  chorus  of  "amens"  follows  this  view  of  the 
subject,  which  is  really  the  most  sensible  objection 
that  has  thus  far  been  made,  we  will  stop  to  con 
sider  it  at  length. 

Would  it  satisfy  a  mother,  who  knew  that  a  pan 
ther  was  ranging  over  the  country,  to  procure  a  work 
on  zoology,  and  gathering  her  children  about  her 
show  them  from  the  pictures  how  a  panther  looks? 
Would  she  consider  it  enough  to  give  them  a  famil 
iar  description  of  its  haunts  and  habits,  and  warn 
them  to  be  careful  when  they  went  berrying  to  keep 
a  sharp  lookout  for  its  gleaming  eyes,  its  stealthy 
tread,  its  cruel  spring?  Would  she  not,  rather,  if 
she  had  a  true  mother's  heart  in  her  bosom,  shoulder 
a  good  trusty  gun — if  there  was  no  one  else  to  do  it 
— and  attempt  herself  the  death  of  the  monster? 

"But  it  seems  unwomanly  to  be  mixed  up  with 
such  dreadful  goings  on  as  they  so  frequently  have 
at  the  polls,"  puts  in  a  feminine  voice  at  our  right. 
"Why,  it  is  almost  as  bad  as  voting." 

For  our  part  we  think  it  considerably  worse,  and 
on  this  slight  basis  of  agreement  let  us  call  for  a 
general  truce. 

The  president  is  now  addressing  a  few  words  to 
the  little  assembly — no  other  than  the  matron  with 
the  silver  curls,  Mrs.  Judge  Haviland.  Every 
woman  present  loves  and  reveres  her,  not  because 
she  bears  a  distinguished  name  in  society,  but  be 
cause  she  is  exactly  what  she  is,  so  motherly,  so 
Christlike,  of  so  grand  a  courage,  with  such  far- 
reaching  sympathies  that  the  poorest  and  most  sor- 


A  New  Factor  in  Politics.  99 

rowful  feel  uplifted  and  strengthened  though  they 
touch  but  the  hem  of  her  garment.  The  real  mag 
netism  which  pours  life  into  faint,  discouraged,  sin- 
sick  souls  must  come  from  actual,  personal,  daily 
contact  with  Him  who  is  the  heavenly  Magnet  for 
all  earth's  sorrows.  There  are  human  hands  whose 
lightest  touch  is  healing;  but  they  are  hands  that  in 
the  mountain-top  or  in  the  valley,  in  darkness  or  in 
light,  in  storm  or  sunshine,  have  never  let  go  of  the 
crucified  One. 

"My  dear  sisters,  our  enemies  sometimes  accuse 
us  of  seeking  notoriety,  but  every  calumny  will  fall 
harmless  at  our  feet  if  we  only  go  forward  trusting 
in  the  Lord  alone.  And  here  do  we  not  make  a  mis 
take?  We,  at  least  many  of  us.  desire  the  ballot. 
We  desire  it,  not  for  purposes  of  selfish  ambition, 
but  to  protect  our  homes;  and  so  far  we  are  right. 
Our  error,  it  seems  to  me,  has  been  in  looking  to 
man  to  give  what  is  really  not  his  to  give.  Does 
not  our  Father  hold  the  nations  in  the  hollow  of  his 
hand?  Is  not  he  the  true  author  of  all  national  and 
civil  polity?  And  in  his  own  good  time  how  easily 
he  can  cause  the  gates  of  brass  to  fly  open  with  a 
touch.  I  think  he  is  now  teaching  the  women  of  the 
W.  C.  T.  U.  a  great  lesson — to  depend  more  upon 
him  and  less  on  man.  We  have  petitioned  legisla 
tures,  political  conventions,  men  in  high  official  posi 
tions,  and  though  certain  Michaels — all  honor  to 
them — have  stood  up  and  helped  us,  we  all  know  the 
story.  We  stand  to-day  without  the  shadow  of  hope 
from  either  of  the  two  great  political  parties.  Poli- 


100  Between    Two    Opinions. 

ticians  have  united  to  ignore  us — we  have  no  votes 
to  give  them.  But  all  our  petitioning  and  memorial 
izing  has  not  been  in  vain  if  their  failure  but  drives 
us  nearer  God.  Let  us  cease  from  man  and  pray: 
'Grive  ear,  0  Shepherd  of  Israel,  thou  that  leadest 
Joseph  like  a  flock;  thou  that  dwellest  between  the 
cherubim,  shine  forth.  Before  Ephriam  and  Benja 
min  and  Manasseh,»stir  up  th}T  strength  and  come 
and  save  us.'" 

And  in  the  deep  ground-swell  of  the  old  Hebrew 
psalm  we  seem  to  catch  the  voices  of  all  the  martyr 
generations  that  have  gone  before — an  innumerable, 
palm-crowned  multitude  who  once  were  faithful  unto 
death,  and  now  recognize  kindred  souls  in  this  band 
of  earnestly ed  women.  It  is  the  cry  of  finite 
weakness  to  infinite  strength,  which,  though  feebler 
than  the  dying  sparrow's,  can  pierce  the  veil  of  the 
unseen,  and  above  the  song  of  the  seraphim,  above 
even  the  triumphal  chants  of  this  redeemed,  sound  in 
the  ears  of  One  who,  as  grand  old  Augustine  has 
said,  "is  patient  because  he  is  eternal." 

But  we  feel  moved  to  turn  aside  once  more  for  a 
brief  converse;  first,  with  the  politicians. 

Men  in  high  places  who  stand  to-day  as  the  repre 
sentatives  of  this  free  Christian  Republic,  can  you 
disregard  the  appeal  of  such  women  and  be  guilt 
less? — not  of  a  great  moral  wrong  simply,  but  of  a 
great  political  blunder.  Does  not  the  prosperity  of 
a  nation  centre  in  its  homes?  and  what  of  the  policy, 
what  of  the  statesmanship  that  would  license  an  evil 
which  more  than  any  other  is  at  the  bottom  of  our 


A  New  Factor  in  Politics.  101 

frequent  divorces;  which  causes  most  of  the  cases  of 
brutality  and  desertion,  to  say  nothing  of  the  domes 
tic  unhappiness  that  never  gets  into  the  papers  be 
cause  it  never  rises  to  the  dignity  of  tragedy? 
What  sort  of  political  economy  can  we  call  it  that 
allows  a  traffic  which  takes  nine  hundred  millions 
from  the  wealth  of  the  country  that  it  may  put  a 
matter  of  eighty  millions  or  so  into  the  nation's  ex 
chequer?  or  that  completely  ignores  eTery  axiom  of 
political  science  in  proposing  to  lighten  the  burdens 
of  State  taxation  by  dividing  among  them  the  sur 
plus  revenue  from  that,  which,  as  the  chief  fountain 
of  crime,  misery  and  pauperism  is  likewise  the  chief 
source  of  all  the  taxation  that  oppresses  honest  in 
dustry? 

But  we  have  a  word  to  say  to  the  voters.  Honest- 
hearted,  hard-handed  farmers  and  mechanics,  how 
long  will  }T>u  be  led  by  mere  party  interest — which 
only  means  the  interest  of  some  party  leader  who 
wants  your  votes — to  support  men  and  measures 
with  whom  and  with  which  your  whole  moral  sense 
is  nt  war?  Is  it  wise  to  do  so?  Is  it  patriotic?  Is 
it  safe?  With  all  our  seeming  peace  and  prosperity, 
thoughtful,  far-seeing  souls  tremble  as  they  eaten  at 
intervals  gleams  of  subterraneous  lightning  pla}ing 
below  our  social  and  political  horizon,  and  hear  the 
low,  ominous  rumblings  that  warn  of  a  terrible  vol 
canic  power  beneath  our  feet  that  may  find  voice  to 
morrow  in  the  earthquake  shock  startling  continents. 
More  and  more  American  cities  are  getting  to  be  the 
resort  of  Communists,  Nihilists,  dynamiters — men 


102  Between    Two   Opinions. 

who  hate  law  and  every  institution  based  on  law; 
and  more  and  more  both  our  towns  and  cities  are 
gathering  a  mass  of  inflammable  material'  precisely 
fitted  under  such  leadership  to  enact  on  American 
soil  the  scenes,  of  blood  and  terror  that  we  have 
grown  to  regard  as  the  legitimate  fruit  of  old-world 
serfdoms  only.  "And  what  will  JQ  do  in  the  day  of 
visitation  and  in  the  desolation  which  shall  come 
from  far,"  if  jfou  vote  to  license  the  liquor  traffic? 
or,  what  is  the  same  thing,  cast  your  ballots  for 
rulers  and  legislators  committed  to  its  interests? 
Liquor  to  the  passions  of  a  mob  is  as  the  torch  to 
the  powder  magazine,  the  match  to  the  fuse.  What 
warrant  have  you  for  the  safety  of  life,  property  or 
home,  if,  to  maddened  crowds  goaded  by  real  wrongs 
and  inflamed  by  the  harangues  of  socialist  leaders, 
liquor  can  be  dealt  out  freely,  thus  priming  them  for 
murder  and  violence  and  rapine?  Truly,  there  is  a 
whole  eternity  in  the  word  longsuffering,  yet  let  us 
beware  that  we  wea^  not  that  patience  beyond 
which  there  is  nothing  but  a  certain  fearful  looking 
for  of  judgment  and  fiery  indignation  on  a  guilty 
people. 

The  neat  sign  up  at  every  polling  place,  ''Hot  tea 
and  coffee  served  free,"  over  the  letters  W.  C.  T.  U., 
was  a  surprise  which  caused  the  saloon  party  to 
gnash  their  teeth;  for  their  plan  had  been  kept  as  en 
tirely  to  themselves  as  if  bound  by  any  number  of 
oaths  '  ever  to  conceal  and  never  reveal  it" — a  fact 
which  we  commend,  by  the  way,  to  the  attention  of 
those  gentlemen  in  the  Masonic  order,  who,  when 


A  New  Factor  in   Politics.  103 

questioned  as  to  the  reason  why  the  lodge  so  rigor 
ously  excludes  all  the  weaker  sex,  sauvely  reply,  "0 
women  can't  keep  secrets,  you  know." 

Though  Nelson  Newhall  in  his  inmost  heart  dis 
liked  the  idea  of  any  feminine  meddling  with  the 
mysterious  machine  of  politics,  he  was  perfect!}'  sin 
cere  in  what  he  had  said  to  Martha — he  was  ready 
to  welcome  any  instrumentality  that  promised  to 
overthrow  the  haught}',  tyrannous,  ever-encroaching 
saloon  power;  and  when  Mrs.  Judge  Haviland  her 
self  handed  him  a  no-license  ticket  with  the  re 
quest  that  he  would  vote  it,  he  could  not  help  feel 
ing  that  this  royal  woman,  who  might  have  sat  for 
an  artist's  dream  of  universal  motherhood,  did  not 
look  so  very  much  out  of  place  after  all. 

"Shure,  an'  its  a  fine  cup  o'  tay;  and  thank  ye 
kindly,  ladies;"  spoke  up  a  rough-looking  Irishman 
who  had  just  treated  himself  to  a  cup  of  the  steam 
ing  beverage,  and  then  he  looked  a  little  doubtfully 
at  the  ticket  placed  in  his  hand. 

Though  poor  Pat  had  neither  money  nor  learning, 
at  the  ballot-box  he  counted  for  as  much  as  if  he 
was  a  millionaire  or  had  a  whole  string  of  college 
degrees  attached  to  his  name,  and  usually  the  Demo 
cratic  side  had  secured  his  vote  by  liberal  supplies  of 
cheap  whisky  and  equally  liberal  doses  of  that 
peculiar  species  of  political  oratory  vulgarly  denom 
inated  "buncombe."  Like  too  many  of  his  country 
men,  he  fell  a  victim  at  periodical  intervals  to  the 
attractions  of  the  saloon;  and,  as  it  happened,  the 
one  to  which  he  usually  resorted  was  kept  by  an  old- 


104  Between   Two   Opinions. 

• 
time  Democrat,  who  had  suddenly  turned  into  an 

ardent  Republican,  under  the  stimulus  of  promises 
to  wink  at  all  future  violations  of  law  on  his  part  if 
he  would  but  give  his  vote  and  influence  towards 
electing  Gen.  Putney.  So  Pat  had  lately  been  in  the 
way  of  hearing  talk  which  had  quite  revolutionized 
all  his  political  ideas.  He  had  learned  to  his  aston 
ishment  that  it  was  the  Republicans  and  not  the 
Democrats  who  had  all  along  been  the  defenders  of 
the  poor  man's  rights.  G-en.  Putney,  he  was  told, 
was  a  strong  "protectionist,"  and  ought  for  that  rea 
son,  if  no  other,  to  have  the  votes  of  all  laboring 
men;  for  the  Democratic  hobby  of  "free  trade,"  if 
once  allowed,  would  mean  starvation  wages  for  the 
workman,  colossal  fortunes  to  the  capitalist,  and, 
most  horrible  of  all,  an  influx  of  Chinese  to  which 
the  Egyptian  plague  of  locusts  could  not  compare 
for  a  moment.  That  neither  he  nor  his  instructors 
could  for  their  lives  have  given  the  dictionary  mean 
ing  of  the  terms  they  used  so  glibly  was  but  a 
trifling  matter.  Pat  had  come  to  the  polls  sure  that 
he  comprehended  the  whole  political  situation. 

But  this  poor  Irishman,  though  capable  of  swal 
lowing  whole  any  lie  that  political  demagogues  chose 
to  tell  him,  had  a  heart  and  a  very  respectable  bit  of 
a  conscience.  He  loved  his  wife  and  children,  and 
for  their  sakes  had  made  more  than  one  manful 
struggle  against  the  whisky  jug,  but  what  availed  it 
when  the  saloon  with  its  tempting  free  lunch  of  salt 
fish,  or  some  other  equally  thirst-provoking  viand, 
stood  always  open,  its  attractions  seconded  by  the 


A  New  Factor  in  Politics.  105 

cravings  of  an  ill-nourished  physical  system,  and  the 
utter  lack^of  any  mental  resource  as  a  refuge  against 
bodily  weariness?  And  which*  is  the  most  to  be  de 
spised,  poor  Pat  or  the  Congressman  who  sits  down 
to  a  luxurious  dinner  with  half  a  dozen  courses  of 
wine,  and  now  and  then  goes  off  on  a  grand  spree  at 
the  nation's  expense?  In  our  humble  opinion  Pat 
is  decidedly  more  of  a  man,  inasmuch  as  he  always 
pays  his  liquor  bills  himself. 

To  this  adopted  citizen  of  great  and  glorious  Colum 
bia  did  Mrs.  Judge  Haviland  now  address  herself 
with  all  that  sweet  and  persuasive  tact  which  is  the 
gift  of  woman. 

"We  want  to  have  no  saloons  in  Jacksonville  this 
year,  and  we  ask  you  as  a  personal  favor  to  vote  for 
no-license.  You,  and  I,  and  everybody  else  would 
be  better  off  if  no  liquor  was  allowed  to  be  sold  any 
where.  Your  vote  may  go  a  great  ways  towards  ac 
complishing  what  we  so  much  desire." 

Pat  had  been  asked  for  his  vote  before,  but  never 
so  winningly;  and  he  thought  how  glad  it  would 
make  Katy,  his  Katy,  who  had  the  brightest  eyes 
and  reddest  cheeks  for  miles  around  when  he  wooed 
her  in  the  "ould  counthry,"  if  he  should  never  get 
drunk  again.  And  if  nobody  was  allowed  to  sell 
him  liquor  how  could  he  get  drunk? 

Of  course  if  Pat  had  been  a  politician  he  would 
never  have  reasoned  in  this  simple  fashion.  He 
would  have  doubted  whether  laws  restricting  the  lib 
erty  of  the  individual  citizen  to  eat  and  drink  what 
he  chooses  are  constitutional.  He  would  have  point- 


106  Between   Two   Opinions. 

ed  to  the  difficulty,  if  not  the  utter  impossibility,  of 
enforcing  such  laws  as  a  proof  that  they  originated 
in  a  narrow  and  ill-regulated  zeal;  and  he  would  have 
capped  the  climax  of  his  arguments  and  objections 
by  saying  that,  so  long  as  taxation  was  the  nation's 
only  source  of  revenue,  the  true  policy  was  not  to 
prohibit  liquor  but  to  tax  it  so  heavily  as  to  make  it 
the  servant  and  ally  of  government,  even  letting  it 
pay  the  entire  school  bill  of  the  Union;  and  thus 
lifting  the  whole  business  to  the  dignity  of  a  perma 
nent  institution  based  on  national  interests. 

But,  unfortunately,  this  poor,  unenlightened  Hi 
bernian  had  never  been  instructed  in  those  peculiar 
views  of  political  economy  which  prevail  among  so 
many  of  our  statesmen  at  Washington;  and  in  his 
new  hope  of  getting  the  upper  hand  of  the  whisky- 
jug  forever,  must  we  say  that  he  forgot,  with  all  the 
reprehensible  fickleness  of  his  race,  every  one  of  his 
of  ^repeated  promises  to  vote  only  for  the  Republi 
can  candidate! 

"It's  all  thrue,  what  ye  say.  I'd  be  a  sight  better 
off,  and  Kat}r  and  the  childher,  if  there  warn't  a  drap 
o'  the  vile  crathur  to  be  had  in  the  wide  worruld,  let 
alone  Jacksonville.  And  if  Col.  Hicks  will  be 
afther  shutting  up  the  dramshops,  Pat  Murphy  is 
the  man  that'll  vote  for  him,  and  glad  to  do  ye  a 
favor,  mum."  And  Pat  went  up  to  the  ballot-box  to 
enjoy  for  the  first  time  since  he  took  out  his  natural 
ization  papers  the  full  exercise  of  lik  freeman's 
right;  while  one  of  Jacksonville's  leading  saloonists 
who  did  a  large  business  in  so-called  "temperance 


A  New  Factor  in  Politics.  107 

drinks,"  and  considered  himself  in  a  modest  way  as 
decidedly  a  benefactor  to  societ}T,  expressed  rather 
loudly  his  opinion  that  "it  was  a  shame  for  respect 
able  women  to  be  bull-dozing  poor  laboring  men  into 
voting  away  their  personal  liberty.  They  had  as 
much  right  to  their  beer  as  the}'  had  to  their  bread." 

Martin  Treworthy,  waiting  with  the  throng  of  vot- 
ers,  heard  this  speech,  and  was  moved  by  the  spirit 
to  reply. 

"If  this  is  the  kind  of  bull-dozing  they  practice, 
all  I  can  say  is  it's  a  pity  we  can't  have  more  of  it. 
They've  made  the  polls  for  one  day  a  fit  place  for  a 
decent  man.  You  are  dreadful  tender  of  the  poor 
man's  right  to  his  beer,  but  why  not  turn  the  tables 
once  in  awhile  and  give  us  a  talk  'about  the  rights  of 
his  wife  and  children  to  their  brea'd?  It  would  be  a 
kind  of  refreshing  variety,  now." 

The  vender  of  "temperance"  drinks  found  too 
many  in  the  crowd  against  him  to  make  much  reply, 
and  slunk  away  discomfited;  while,  heedless  of 
everything  but  their  one  object,  this  brave  detach 
ment  of  the  great  white  ribbon  army,  through  evil 
report  and  good  report,  kept  steadily  at  their  posts, 
pouring  out  the  steaming  cups  and  handing  no- 
license  tickets,  till  the  polls  closed  with  this  united 
testimony  from  friend  and  foe  that  never  before  had 
so  orderly  an  election  been  held  in  Jacksonville. 

Its  results  we  will  leave  for  our  next  chapter, 
while  we  transport  our  readers  once  more  to  that 
farm-house  among  the  hills  where  another  letter  from 
Stephen  has  just  arrived,  to  be  read  and  re-read  and 


108  Between    Two   Opinions. 

talked  over,  and  then  laid  carefully  away  in  a  corner 
of  the  square  mahogany  desk,  which,  according  to 
authentic  tradition,  formed  one  of  the  few  earthly 
possessions  of  the  exiled  clergyman  previously  al 
luded  to  as  the  founder  of  the  Howland  line;  and 
which  was,  therefore,  dated  less  than  half  a  century 
after  the  sailing  of  the  Mayflower. 

This  family  ark,  the  sacred  depository  for  the 
family  valuables,  Mrs.  Phoebe  Howland  now  pro 
ceeded  to  reverently  unlock  and  open,  while  her  hus 
band,  wearied  with  his  farm  work,  leaned  back  com 
fortably  in  the  feather-cushioned  arm-chair  and  con 
templated  the  fire;  his  thoughts  traveling  meanwhile 
over  quite  a  circle  of  new  ideas  opened  before  him 
by  Stephen's  letter. '  Finally  he  broke  out: 

"I  don't  care  what  folks  say  about  'woman's 
sphere;'  it  is  always  right  where  G-od  puts  her,  and 
I'm  glad  for  one  that  the  women  are  rousing  up  to 
stop  this  saloon  business.  I  hope  God  will  give  'em 
grace  to  hang  on  till  the  whole  cursed  system  falls 
as  flat  as  the  walls  of  Jericho." 

Now  Mrs.  Phoebe  Howland  was  the  most  conserv 
ative  of  New  England  matrons,  which  is  saying  a 
great  deal.  The  only  place  where  she  allowed  her 
native  gifts  to  have  full  scope  was  the  female  prayer 
meeting.  There,  her  wonderfully  earnest  petitions, 
her  pointed  exhortations  and  eloquent  appeals  to 
Christian  duty  made  her  a  natural  leader.  But 
there  were  times  when  her  heart  was  thrilled  with 
such  a  deep  longing  to  give  out  more  freely  and  fully 
of  what  was  in  her  that  it  was  almost  pain;  yet  her 


A  New  Factor  in  Politics.  109 

soul,  naturally  tuned  to  the  grand  and  the  heroic, 
fitted  itself  to  the  humblest  daily  duties  without  a 
murmur,  and  the  result  was  no  actual  narrowing  of 
her  spiritual  powers,  but  rather  a  condensing,  as  of 
some  exquisite  perfume  under  the  distiller's  art,  so 
that  whatever  she  said  or  did  was  like  a  drop  from 
the  alabaster  box  of  ointment.  Its  fragrance  filled 
the  house. 

"Women  followed  Jesus  to  the  cross,"  she  said, 
coming  back  to  her  seat  and  her  knitting  (four  pairs 
of  lamb's  wool  socks  destined  for  the  absent  Stephen). 
"I  think  I  could  follow  him  to  the  polls  if  I  felt  cer 
tain  that  God  called  me  there.  But  I  greatly  fear 
that  in  this  movement  there  may  be  many  who  will 
not  stop  to  take  counsel  of  the  Spirit,  but  run  before 
they  are  sent,  to  the  harm  and  hindrance  of  the 
cause.  I  rejoice  at  everything  that  looks  like  a  ful 
fillment  of  the  prophecy,  'I  will  pour  out  my  Spirit 
upon  all  flesh;'  but  in  this  calling  of  women  to  pub 
lic  work  I  can  onl}~  rejoice  with  trembling,  for  they 
are  human  as  well  as  men,  and  if  they  don't  keep 
close  to  the  Lord  I  know  how  it  will  be.  Pride  and 
ambition  and  self-seeking  will  come  in  and  spoil  all 
they  are  doing." 

And  there  fell  between  the  two  a  long  silence, 
broken  again  by  Mr.  Josiah  Howland  whose  thoughts 
though  they  seemed  to  be  pursuing  another  track, 
had  really  followed  logically  in  the  line  of  Phoebe's 
last  remarks. 

"Mother,  there's  one  thing  I've  noticed  about 
Stephen's  letters  lately.  He  don't  say  a  word  about 


110  Between   Two    Opinions. 

religion,  yet  I  think  he  gave  good  evidence  before  he 
went  from  home  of  having  met  with  a  change,  and  I 
feel  kinder  afraid  that  he's  letting  his  mind  get  all 
taken  up  with  other  concerns.  Temperance  work 
can't  be  carried  on  to  have  it  amount  to  much  with 
out  Christ  behind  us,  and  I  wish  when  you  write  to 
him  you'd  say  something  that  will  draw  him  out  a 
little  to  speak  of  his  spiritual  state.  I'm  glad  he's 
prospering  and  getting  on;  tell  him  that.  I  don't 
grudge  a  dollar  I've  spent  on  his  education.  'But 
what  shall  it  profit  a  man  if  he  gain  the  whole  world 
and  lose  his  own  soul?'  ' 

To  this  Puritan  couple  this  problem  held  in 
solution  every  interest  of  time  and  eternity;  for  what 
were  riches,  learning,  or  fame,  but  as  the  small  dust 
of  the  balance  weighed  against  immortal  life? 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

MARTIN   TREWORTHY    DISCOURSES   ON    HUMBUGS. 

Martin  Tre worthy's  hermitage  looked  as  inviting 
as  a  bright  light  and  a  good  fire  could  make  it.  The 
furniture  had  all  been  bought  in  reference  to  that 
marriage  which  never  was  to  be;  and  so  it  happened 
that  man}T  tasteful  bits  of  ornament  scattered  here 
and  there  through  the  homely  apartment  seemed  to 
shed  over  it  the  light  of  a  gracious  feminine  pres 
ence,  as  if  the  one  who  was  to  have  been  its  pride 
and  joy  had  only  left  her  sewing-chair  in  the  corner 
for  one  brief  moment. 

On  a  bracket  in  one  corner  stood  a  vase  of  dried 
grasses;  her  hands  had  arranged  them.  In  the  win 
dow  stood  a  pot  of  ivy;  she  had  rooted  it  from  a  tiny 
slip.  There  was  not  a  niche  or  corner  to  which  Mar 
tin  Tre  worthy's  eyes  could  turn  without  resting  on 
some  momento  of  her  he  had  loved  and  lost,  and  he 
liked  to  have  it  so. 

He  was  really  one  of  those  crystallized  poets  whose 
feelings  move  to  rhyme  and  rhythm  while  they  gen 
erally  talk  the  most  rugged,  matter-of-fact  prose. 
He  had  a  dim  idea,  which  he  could  by  no  means 
have  explained,  that  there  are  vibrations  of  soul  as 
well  as  of  sound  and  light,  so  that  even  in  the  inef- 


112  Between   Two    Opinions. 

fable  glories  of  the  New  Jerusalem  the  spirit  of  his 
beloved  might  be  conscious  that  he  still  remembered 
her  with  an  affection  stronger  than  death.  And  who 
shall  say  that  it  is  not  so?  What  warrant  for  be 
lieving  that  earthly  love  founded  in  heavenly  hope 
can  perish?  The  blossom  may  be  nipped,  but  the 
root  is  perrennial  and  native  to  Paradise. 

It  was  a  disagreeable  evening.  A  keen,  raw  wind 
was  blowing  the  clouds  in  great  dark  masses  across 
the  sky — treasuries  of  snow  and  hail  that  only  waited 
Jehovah's  bidding  to  be  unlocked  by  the  angel  of 
the  elements  and  scattered  broadcast  over  the  shiver 
ing  earth.  Nelson  Newhall  occupied  one  corner  of 
the  settee  that  extended  its  comfortable  length  be 
fore  the  fire  which  was  blazing  brightly  under  Mar 
tin  Tre worthy's  vigorous  application  of  the  poker. 

"Seems  as  if  the  cold  weather  was  setting  in  un 
common  early,"  the  latter  remarked.  "If  signs 
mean  anything  we  are  going  to  have  a  cold  winter. 
I  met  an  old  comrade  of  mine  the  other  day — per 
haps  you've  heard  of  him,  Dan  Carter — he  was  with 
me  in  Kansas,  but  he's  settled  down  now  to  the  trap 
ping  business;  been  at  it  ten  years;  and  he  tells  me 
he  never  saw  the  fur  so  thick  on  the  musk-rats  as  it 
is  this  season." 

But  Nelson  just  now  was  not  interested  in  weather 
prognostications,  and  abruptly  changed  the  subject. 

"I  want  to  know  how  long  we've  got  to  submit  to 
having  our  rights  over-ridden  in  this  fashion.  With 
a  fair  ballot  and  a  fair  count  Jacksonville  could 
have  been  carried  triumphantly  for  no-license. 


On  Humbugs.  113 

Now  we  must  stand  the  saloon  curse  another  year. 
It  is  perfectly  infamous  and  outrageous  to  play  such 
a  trick  on  temperance  men  in  the  first  place,  and 
then  deny  us  the  right  to  a  recount." 

Martin  Treworthy  drummed  gently  with  the  pokeo* 
a  moment  before  speaking. 

"•The  Lord  reigneth;  let  the  earth  rejoice.'  I've 
known  times  when  it  was  like  pulling  eye-teeth  to 
say  that;  when  it  seemed  as  if  the  devil  was  reign 
ing,  and  every  good  man  ought  to  hide  his  head  and 
wear  sackcloth  and  ashes;  when  I  saw  husbands  and 
fathers  shot  down  like  dogs  on  the  plains  of  Kansas 
just  for  defending  their  right  to  a  free  home  on  a 
free  soil;  when  I  saw  the  flag  of  my  country,  the 
blessed  old  Stars  and  Stripes,  turned  against  me,  and 
waving  over  ruffians  that  were  hunting  me  down  for 
no  other  crime  than  because  I  had  tried  to  be  a  re 
fuge  for  the  Lord's  outcast  ones.  Nelson,  you  hain't 
got  into  the  deep  waters  yet.  'If  thou  hast  run  with 
the  footmen  and  they  have  wearied  thee,  then  how 
wilt  thou  contend  with  horses?  and  if  in  the  land  of 
peace,  wherein  thou  trustedst,  they  wearied  thee, 
then  how  wilt  thou  do  in  the  swellings  of  Jordan?'  " 

"I  can't  help  it,  Mr.  Treworthy.  Your  blood  was 
hot  as  mine  once.  Submitting  to  God's  will  is  one 
thing,  and  submitting  to  injustice  and  fraud  is  an 
other.  There  has  been  too  much  of  this  last  kind. 
Wiry,  if  all  the  men  who  call  themselves  Prohibi 
tionists  had  only  voted  according  to  their  convic 
tions  we  should  have  elected  our  man  by  a  good 
majority." 


114  Between  Two   Opinions. 

"There  ain't  no  reasonable  doubt  of  that,"  placidly 
returned  Mr.  Treworthy. 

"Well,  it  just  makes  me  mad  to  hear  Christian 
men  talk  about  the  evils  of  intemperance  and  pray, 
'Thy  kingdom  come,'  and  then  eat  their  own  words 
by  voting  with  rumsellers  and  distillers  at  the  bid 
ding  of  a  party.  It's  the  inconsistency  of  the  thing 
Tm  looking  at." 

"Don't  you  know,"  returned  Martin  Treworthy, 
leaning  forward  in  his  chair  and  giving  the  fire  an 
extra  poke,  "that  these  good  men  believe  all  the 
while  they  are  voting  for  temperance.  They  are 
humbugged  and  don't  know  it.  'He  that  letteth  will 
let  till  he  be  taken  out  of  the  way.'  There's  a  lying 
spirit  abroad  in  the  world,  in  the  church,  everywhere 
— an  organized  Satanic  power  that  will  either  plant 
itself  square  in  the  way  of  every  honest  reform,  or 
if  it  has  got  too  strong  to  be  stopped,  checks  and 
hampers  it;  puts  a  bridle  round  its  neck  and  a  bit  in 
its  mouth,  covers  it  with  fine  trappings,  and  then 
rides  on  it  just  where  it  wants  to  go.  Look  at  the 
Glood  Templars,  started  in  1851  when  the  temper 
ance  reform  was  thirty  or  forty  years  old,  and  had 
got  too  strong  a  grip  on  the  hearts  and  consciences 
of  the  people  to  be  shook  off — who  were  its  chief  en 
gineers?  High  Masons.  And  what  has  it  done  for 
temperance?  Well,  I'll  tell  you.  It  has  humbugged 
a  great  many  temperance  folks  into  sitting  with 
folded  hands  and  trusting  to  the  lodge  to  do  their 
work  for  them;  it  has  humbugged  lots  of  others  into 
joining,  and  then  kept  them  busy  with  childish  non- 


On  Humbugs.  115 

sense;  it  has  humbugged  thousands  of  Christian  men 
and  women  into  supporting  secrecy  as  a  principle; 
and  in  short  it  has  been  nothing  else  but  a  first-class 
humbug  clear  through." 

'•But  what  has  all  this  to  do  with  temperance  men 
voting  for  Gen.  Putney?"  asked  Nelson,  rather  im 
patiently.  « 

"I  hain't  come  to  it  yet."  answered  Martin  Tre- 
worthy,  serenely,  still  keeping  his  hold  on  the  poker. 
"It's  a  long  story;  it's  got  as  many  coils  and  ramifi 
cations  as  the  old  Serpent  himself.  Now  take  the 
Grand  Army  of  the  Republic.  I  believe  the  rank 
and  file  of  the  members  are  honest  men,  but  they  are 
humbugged.  They  are  made  to  believe  that  all  the 
reason  for  loyal  soldiers  banding  together  in  secret 
like  a  company  of  robbers  is  to  cultivate  fraternal 
feelings  and  assist  one  another,  when  the  real  object 
is  to  get  offices  for  the  leaders.  Take  all  the  secret 
orders  in  the  land — and  their  name  is  legion — they 
are  nothing  but  different  manifestation*  of  one  lying 
spirit — Freemasonry.  Good  Templars,  or  KuKlux, 
or  Nihilists — it  is  all  the  same.  Men  that  will  be 
humbugged  by  a  secret  order  will  be  very  easily 
humbugged  at  the  polls.  Men  that  will  bind  them 
selves  by  an  oath,  or  an  obligation — I  don't  care 
which — to  obey  leaders  they  never  saw  or  heard  of. 
will  be  just  as  easily  made  slaves  to  a  party,  especi 
ally  if  that  party  is  itself  nose-led  by  the  lodge. 
There's  the  whole  thing  in  a  nutshell.  Gen.  Putney 
has  been  elected  by  the  votes  of  old  soldiers,  prohi 
bitionists  and  liquor  men;  and  I  can  tell  you  how  it 


116  Between    Two   Opinions. 

has  been  done.  In  the  first  place  he  was  nominated 
over  the  heads  of  other  and  better  candidates  by 
Masonic  leaders  of  the  G-.  A.  R.  who  all  had  axes  to 
grind  of  one  sort  and  another.  The  Gr.  A.  R.  is  a 
grand  machine  for  getting  fraudulent  pensions,  and 
there's  lots  of  bounty  jumpers  who  ought  to  bless 
the  G-eneral  for  his  work  in  that  line  when  he  was 
Representative.  But  does  anybody  who  knows  Joe 
Putney  and  has  got  as  much  common  sense  as  you 
can  put  on  the  point  of  a  cambric  needle,  think  for  a 
minute  that  he  cares  for  the  soldiers  any  more  than 
just  to  catch  their  votes.  Then  the  next  thing  was 
to  dupe  the  Prohibitionists  with  lies  and  fair  speech 
es;  and  how  was  that  done?  "Why,  by  means  of 
Masonic  influence  controlling  the  secret  temperance 
orders  just  as  it  controls  the  G.  A.  R.;  magnifying 
the  Republican  party,  belittling  the  prohibition 
movement,  ridiculing  the  prohibition  leaders,  and 
lauding  Gen.  Putney  for  a  temperance  man,  when  it 
is  a  fact  that  brewers  and  distillers  all  over  the  State 
have  poured  out  money  like  water  to  secure  his  elec 
tion.  Maybe  you  don't  know  it,  but  every  saloonist 
in  Jacksonville  is  a  Republican,  because  the  party 
managers  have  given  him  to  understand  that  that's 
the  side  his  bread  is  buttered.  'Support  our  ticket 
and  we  won't  interfere  with  your  business.'  That's 
the  word;  and  when  every  bar-keeper  is  a  Mason,  or 
an  Odd-fellow,  or  a  Knight  of  Pythias,  or  all  three, 
they  know  pretty  well  they  don't  run  much  risks 
promising.  So  the  lowest  groggery  becomes  a  trap 
to  catch  the  votes  of  the  drinking  class,  and  we  are 


On  Humbugs.  117 

treated  to  a  spectacle  that  is  enough  to  make  the  devil 
laugh  in  his  sleeve,  bar-keepers  and  temperance  men. 
church  members  and  drunkards,  ministers  and  row 
dies,  all  voting  together  for  the  same  man!" 

"I  must  say  you  are  making  out  the  political  situ 
ation  to  be  in  even  a  worse  muddle  than  I  thought," 
observed  Nelson,  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders. 
"But  if  I  have  been  told  once  I  have  fifty  times  that 
the  Gr.  A.  R.  was  not  in  the  least  a  political  organiza 
tion." 

"Tell  that  to  the  marines.  No;  to  somebody  a 
great  deal  greener  than  the  marines,  a  jack  Mason; 
but  don't  you  go  to  riling  me  up  by  talking  as 
though  you  believed  any  of  that  stuff,  Nelson  New- 
hall,  or  I  vow,  I  don't  know  but  I  shall  be  tempted 
to  show  you  the  door." 

Nelson  laughed  quietly,  as  a  threatening  flourish 
of  the  poker,  which  had  been  buried  long  enough  in 
the  coals  to  show  a  red-hot  tip,  gave  emphasis  to  the 
words. 

"Their  hand  has  been  plain  enough  in  this  elec 
tion,  I'll  confess.  It's  an  idea  I  don't  like.  I  am 
not  down  on  secret  orders  hammer  and  tongs  like 
you,  but  I  hold  to  their  keeping  their  fingers  out  of 
the  political  pie  and  not  making  a  worse  hocus  pocus 
of  it  than  it  is." 

"Might  as  well  say  that  a  cat  ought  to  go  against 
its  nature,  and  not  catch  birds  and  mice,"  retorted 
Martin.  "It  is  the  nature  of  the  lodge  to  want 
power,  and  the  way  to  power  is  through  politics. 
The  saloon  party  has  played  us  a  trick" — 


118  Between    Two   Opinions. 

"Which  they  won't  do  another  time,"  growled  Nel 
son,  who  felt  that  his  indignation  was  most  right 
eous;  for  through  a  purposely  ambiguous  wording 
of  the  ballots  it  was  found  that  many  Prohibitionists 
had  voted  Yes,  on  the  question  of  license,  believing 
all  the  while  that  they  were  voting  No — a  fraud 
which  doomed  Jacksonville  to  another  year  of  rum- 
rule,  the  just  demand  for  a  recount  having  been  re 
fused. 

"Not  the  same  trick,  but  maybe  another  just  as 
bad.  When  the  lodge  and  the  saloon  strike  hands 
what  can  honest  men  expect?  Years  ago  the  Lord 
opened  my  eyes  to  see  that  lodgery,  and  slavery,  and 
rum,  and  every  other  evil  that  is  opposing  the  reign 
of  Christ,  were  so  many  links  in  the  devil's  chain; 
and,  Nelson  Newhall,  the  day  is  coming  when  your 
eyes  will  be  opened,  too." 

Martin  Treworthy  spoke  with  a  strange  solemnity 
which  impressed  Nelson  too  much  to  ask  him  what 
he  meant;  and  in  the  silence  which  followed  he  be 
gan  to  think — feeling  almost  angry  with  himself 
meanwhile  that  the  recollection  should  occur  to  him 
at  just  that  moment,  for  what  could  it  possibly  have 
to  do  with  Martin  Treworthy 's  prediction? — how  the 
day  before  h§,had  been  visited  at  his  lodgings  by  a 
stranger  who  represented  himself  as  an  agent  of  the 
Union,  empowered  to  look  into  matters  connected 
with  the  works  where  Nelson  was  employed.  In  his 
immaculate  broadcloth  and  spotless  beaver,  with  his 
massive  gold  watch  and  chain,  and  his  fat,  white 
hands  bedecked  with  rings,  this  champion  of  the 


On  Humbugs.  119 

laborer's  rights  seemed  so  evidently  to  belong  to 
that  class  of  humanity  which  like  the  lilies  of  the 
field  "toil  not,  neither  do  they  spin,"  that  Nelson  did 
not  feel  inspired  with  any  particular  confidence;  but 
he  answered  his  inquiries  frankly.  There  had  been 
a  recent  cut-down  in  the  wages  which  he  considered 
unjust  and  unreasonable,  and  this  had  caused  some 
dissatisfaction  among  the  workmen.  But  when 
asked  "if  there  was  any  talk  of  a  strike,"  he  had 
bluntly  answered  "that  with  the  winter  just  on  them 
and  promising  to  be  a  hard  one,  he  shouldn't  sup 
pose  anybody  but  a  fool  would  talk  of  such  a  thing. 
The  capitalist  could  barricade  himself  behind  his 
dollars,  and  then  when  the  strike  was  over  start  up 
again  with  perhaps  an  improved  market,  while  ten 
to  one  the  men  would  go  back  to  work  at  the  old 
prices."  This  vigorous  speech  was  met  by  the  agent 
with  the  smooth  reply  that  it  was  the  settled  policy 
of  the  Union  to  avoid  strikes  if  practicable,  and  in 
deed  it  was  in  accordance  with  this  policy  that  he 
had  been  sent  out  to  make  these  inquiries.  But  the 
assurance  for  some  reason  did  not  allay  Nelson's 
feeling  of  distrust;  and  still  further  was  it  increased 
when  he  picked  up  and  began  to  read  a  paper  left 
behind  him,  either  accidentally  or  purposely  by  this 
white-handed  and  be-ringed  representative  of  labor. 
It  was  a  Socialistic  sheet  filled  with  accounts  of 
many  real  wrongs  and  abuses  and  some  fancied 
ones;  but  with  the  same  false,  dangerous,  unrepubli- 
can  remedies  for  all.  He  read  it  awhile,  then  threw 
it  into  the  fire  with  an  impatient  "pshaw!" — for  Nel- 


120  Between   Two   Opinions. 

son  Newhall,  as  a  typical  American*  workman,  de 
sired  most  devoutly  the  elevation  of  his  own  class, 
but  with  ideas  rather  than  dynamite. 

There  was  reason  why  Martin  Treworthy's  words, 
though  not  remarkable  .in  themselves,  should  im 
press  him  like  a  solemn  prophecy  of  things  already 
close  at  hand.  Side  by  side  with  his  rough,  practi 
cal  common  sense  ran  a  vein  of  that  spiritual  fire 
that  burns  in  the  souls  of  prophets  and  seers;  his 
rough  border  experience,  filled  with  episodes  of  un 
written  heroism,  had  fanned  the  divine  flame.  Alto 
gether  Martin  Treworthy  was  a  unique  character  who 
never  could  have  been  developed  on  other  than 
Western  soil,  with  a  dash  of  the  Yankee,  the  Puritan 
and  the  backwoodsman,  all  combined.  His  news 
paper  had  educated  him  as  it  has  many  an  American 
citizen  with  few  early  advantages,  so  that  he  could 
talk  in  a  pungent,  practical  style  with  no  very  seri 
ous  grammatical  lapses;  while  his  daily  study  of  the 
Bible  had  given  him  a  kind  of  Hebraistic  turn  of 
thought  and  feeling.  Nelson  had  heard  of  his 
strange  foretelling  of  our  great  civil  struggle,  and 
for  an  instant  he  felt  vaguely  thrilled  and  startled — 
that  involuntary  shiver  that  passes  over  the  spirit 
when  touched  by  the  breath  of  the  supernatural. 

"Well,"  he  said,  rising  with  a  sigh  from  his  seat 
before  the  fire;  "this  seems  home-like,  but  1  must  go. 
Tom  don't  seem  to  be  quite  so  well  to-day.  1  wish 
I  could  get  hold  of  something  that  would  cure  his 
cough." 

"Oh,  you  must  keep  up  heart.     Cut  and  try,  cut 


On  Humbugs.  121 

and  try;  that's  the  way.  Now  there's  Balm  of  G-ilead 
buds,  with  a  little  ipecac  and  balsam  of  fir;  I've 
known  that  to  cure  a  man  given  over  in  consump 
tion.  I've  got  some  of  the  buds;  always  calculate  to 
keep  them  on  hand  for  sprains  and  bruises."  And 
Martin  Treworthy  began  to  rummage  among  his 
rather  heretogenous  stores  on  the  shelf  where  he 
kept  his  "tin  box"  with  a  brisk  cheerfulness  which 
might  have  wakened  a  heart  of  hope  in  the  very 
bosom  of  despair. 

But  we  must  not  forget  Stephen  Howland,  who 
still  continued  to  live  with  a  Spartan  economy,  satis 
fied  with  the  thought  that  he  was  laying  the  basis 
for  a  legal  reputation  which  would  not  dishonor  the 
Howland  ancestry.  Stephen  felt  not  a  little  honest 
pride  in  the  good  old  Puritan  stock  from  which  he 
sprang,  and  in  fighting  the  liquor  oligarchy  was  he 
not  doing  just  what  they  did  two  or  three  hundred 
years  ago,  only  in  a  different  shape  and  fashion? 

He  was  also  fast  becoming  a  good  Odd-fellow,  ac 
cording  to  Mr.  Bassett's  idea  of  the  term — that  is  to 
say,  he  attended  the  lodge  regularly  and  was  slowly 
beginning  to  see  some  of  its  peculiar  advantages. 
He  had  passed  all  the  degrees  of  Friendship,  Bro 
therly  Love  and  Truth.  He  had  acted  over  the  story 
of  David  and  Jonathan  and  the  parable  of  the  Grood 
Samaritan  with  a  promiscuous  company  of  church 
members,  ministers,  deists,  and  we  must  add,  pro 
fane  swearers  and  libertines.  And  in  all  this  steal 
ing  from  Holy  Scripture  never  a  mention  of  that 
Name  above  every  name  which  is  the  central  pivot 


122  Between  Two   Opinions. 

on  which  all  divine  truth  turns !  He  had  been  shown 
various  instructive  symbols,  such  as  the  All-Seeing 
Eye,  a  skull  and  crossed  bones,  a  coffin,  a  Bible,  and 
a  serpent  lifted  on  a  pole,  but  neyer  a  hint  of  dod's 
wonderful  plan  of  redemption;  for  even  the  latter 
symbol  was  explained  to  him  as  bearing  merely  the 
pagan  signification  of  Wisdom,  and  not  as  typifying 
that  atoning  sacrifice  for  human  guilt  once  uplifted 
on  Calvary. 

To  be  sure,  Stephen  was  familiar  enough  with 
Bible  truth.  Like  young  Timothy  he  had  known  the 
holy  Scriptures  from  a  child;  but  the  lessons  that  he 
learned  at  the  lodge  were  softly,  slowly  letting  down 
a  veil  over  his  spiritual  sight  through  which  the  doc 
trines  taught  him  at  his  mother's  knee,  of  repent 
ance,  of  a  new  birth  and  faith  in  a  risen  Redeemer, 
appeared  as  dim  and  indistinct  as  the  images  and 
sounds  about  him  to  one  half-locked  in  slumber. 
He  never  thought  of  Odd-fellowship  as  a  form  of 
salvation  or  even  a  form  of  religion,  and  had  he  been 
questioned  would  have  emphatically  denied  it  was 
either.  He  would  have  scouted  the  idea  that  these 
nightly  meetings  with  their  Christless  prayers,  their 
equally  Christless  morality,  and  ceremonies  borrowed 
from  pagan  sources,  had  stolen  from  him  his  early 
faith.  And  why?  Simply  because  the  lodge  knows 
that  to  keep  its  victims  unconscious  of  the  robbery 
it  must  substitute  in  the  place  of  those  truths  sham 
semblances  to  counterfeit  them,  as  a  wax  figure  coun 
terfeits  the  living,  breathing  human  form.  He  read 
in  the  Odd-fellow's  manual,  kindly  lent  him  by  Mr. 


On  Humbugs.  123 

Bassett,  that  "his  initiation  into  the  order  was  the 
same  thing  as  regeneration  b}'  the  Word;"  that  "it 
was  a  leading  characteristic  of  all  the  ancient  rites 
from  which  Odd-fellowship  was  copied  that  they  be 
gan  in  sorrow  and  gloom  and  ended  in  light  and 
joy,"  just  as  in  the  Christian  religion  the  soul  passes 
to  the  joys  of  salvation  through  the  narrow  gate  of 
conviction  and  repentance.  He  read,  furthermore, 
that  "the  order  was  a  miniature  representation 
among  a  chosen  few  of  that  fraternity  which  God 
has  instituted  among  men" — in  other  words,  of  the 
Christian  church,  the  holy  nation,  the  royal  priest 
hood,  the  peculiar  people;  that  Love  (not  the  love  of 
Christ  which  constrains  us  to  act  justly  and  merci- 
fulh*  by  all  men,  but  that  kind  which  excludes  from 
its  bowels  of  compassion  more  than  four-fifths  of  the 
human  race)  "was  the  hidden  name  in  the  white 
stone;"  and,  to  crown  all,  that  he  had  only  to  be  a 
good  Odd-fellow,  practicing  all  its  three  cardinal  vir 
tues  "to  have  the  bow  of  hope  span  his  last  resting- 
place,"  and  "find  the  mysteries  of  heaven  unveiled 
to  his  admiring  vision." 

One  who  has  taken  a  deadly  dose  of  laudanum  may 
seem  to  be  only  in  a  sound,  natural  slumber,  while 
ever}'  moment  is  locking  him  faster  in  the  sleep  that 
knows  no  waking.  This  was  the"  trouble  with 
Stephen.  That  old-fashioned  couple  in  their  hill 
country  home  who  held  to  the  old  theological  land 
marks  with  a  pertinacity  quite  in  keeping  with  the 
rocky,  stubborn  soil  from  which  they  drew  their  live 
lihood;  who  believed  in  the  inspiration  of  the  Bible 


124  Between   Two   Opinions. 

from  Genesis  to  Revelation;  who  held  that  the  deep 
est  conviction  of  sin  could  not  fathom  the  awf ulness 
of  that  guilt  which  cost  the  Son  of  G-od  his  life;  who 
looked  upon  time  as  the  only  preparation  for  etern 
ity,  and  on  all  departed  souls  gone  into  the  invisible 
as  beyond  the  power  of  any  prayer  or  ceremonial 
rite  whatever  to  alter  their  final  state,  could  not  un 
derstand,  what  Stephen  had  never  told  them,  that  he 
had  been  spiritually  chloroformed  by  the  false  wor 
ship  of  the  lodge,  which  fascinated  him  with  its 
dreamy,  shadowy  semblance  of  the  true  religion,  as 
the  mirage  with  its  vision  of  palm-fringed  lakes  fas 
cinates  the  desert  traveller. 

Not  that  he  was  wholly  satisfied,  for  it  sometimes 
crossed  his  mind  that  he  did  not  fancy  standing  in 
fraternal  relations  to  men  of  such  free  and  easy 
morals,  as  Yan  Gilder,  for  instance;  and  he  even  had 
strong  suspicions  that  many  of  the  members  secretly 
adjourned  after  lodge  meeting  was  over  to  some  of 
those  very  bar-rooms  upon  which  he,  as  attorney  for 
the  Law  and  Order  League,  had  been  waging  such 
vigorous  warfare.  Indeed,  he  once  hinted  as  much 
to  Mr.  Basset,  who  answered  him  with  a  reassuring 
Scriptural  quotation. 

" Wheat  and  tares,  wheat  and  tares.  They've  got 
to  grow  together  in  the  lodge  as  well  as  in  the 
church.  As  to  Yan  Gilder,  I  don't  stand  up  for  the 
man;  you  know  I  don't;  but  still  he's  no  worse  than 
a  good  many  others,  and  if  we  went  to  expelling  all 
the  unworthy  members  I  don't  know  where  we 
should  stop.  We  all  have  sins  and  shortcomings 


On  Humbugs.  125 

enough  to  lead  us  to  deal  charitably  with  weak  and 
erring  brethren." 

Stephen  felt  rebuked,  as  if  Mr.  Basset  had  deli 
cately  accused  him  of  Pharisaism,  not  reflecting  that 
such  a  man  as  Van  Gilder  might  easily  be  in  posses 
sion  of  too  many  secrets  (which  was  in  fact  the  case) 
affecting  the  reputation  of  seemingly  respectable 
members  of  the  fraternity  to  be  safely  expelled. 
And  as  to  the  vexatious  and  needless  drawbacks 
which  he  had  met  with  in  prosecuting  liquor  sellers 
— it  is  true  that  Stephen  himself  had  solemnly  prom 
ised  "to  warn  a  brother  of  any  approaching  danger, 
whether  from  his  own  imprudence  or  the  evil  designs 
of  others;"  but  he  would  have  repelled  with  scorn 
and  indignation  the  idea  that  this  could  ever  mean 
shielding  a  criminal  from  the  consequences  of  his 
crime,  and  he  was  far  too  honest  and  fair-minded  to 
impute  any  such  understanding  of  it  to  others. 

From  all  this  the  reader  will  see  that  Stephen 
Howland  was  very  thoroughly  humbugged,  and 
would  have  afforded  a  fine  illustration  for  Mr.  Tre- 
worthy  with  which  to  point  his  arguments  and  facts 
when  discoursing  to  Nelson. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A   NEW   KIND    OF   MACHINE. 

Chronologically  speaking,  this  chapter  is  out  of 
place,  for  it  belongs  to  an  early  epoch  in  our  story, 
when  Stephen  Rowland  was  patiently  waiting  for 
slow-footed  Fortune  in  the  shape  of  his  first  client, 
Nelson  Newhall. 

Fairfield  is  one  of  the  pleasantest  of  prairie  vil 
lages,  and  the  finest  farm  therein  is  owned  by  Israel 
Deming,  himself  as  fine  a  specimen  of  the  well-to-do 
Western  farmer  as  one  often  meets.  At  the  present 
moment  he  sits  on  his  shaded  back  porch  discussing 
the  news  and  the  crops  with  Uncle  Zeb,  and  at  the 
same  time  enjoying  the  cool  breeze  that  has  sprung 
up  after  a  day  of  unusual  sultriness.  Uncle  Zeb  is 
a  lean,  dried-up  little  man  who  might  have  sat  for  a 
picture  of  Timon  after  the  goddess  turned  him  into 
a  grasshopper,  so  much  did  his  long,  thin  legs,  and 
a  certain  lively  quirk  in  his.  voice,  to  say  nothing  of 
a  happy  faculty  of  living  without  work  or  worry,  re 
mind  one  of  that  musical  insect. 

"They  say  corn  is  going  to  yield  more  to  the  acre 
than  it  did  last  year,  Mr.  Deming,"  remarked  Uncle 
Zeb,  briskly.  "Them  frosts  we  had  along  back 
didn't  do  no  great  damage  arter  all.  I  see  your 
wheat  is  coming  out  heavier  than  the  average. 


A  New  Kind  of  Machine.  127 

Some  folks  think  it  is  all  luck,  but  I  believe  what 
Solomon  says,  'The  hand  of  the  diligent  maketh 
rich.'  And  I  tell  'em  if  they'll  only  pattern  after 
Israel  Deming,  always  up  and  at  it,  early  or  late, 
rain  or  shine,  they'll  have  as  good  luck  as  he." 

"Anyhow  I  don't  get  much  more  than  my  living," 
replied  the  person  thus  complimented;  "and  no 
farmer  can  with  these  high  freights  and  middle  men 
taking  all  the  profits.  These  confounded  corpora 
tions  lobby  round,  and  wheedle  and  bribe  Congress 
into  voting  away  the  people's  land  and  mone}r  to 
make  the  rich  richer  and  the  poor  poorer.  Farmers 
ought  to  combine  like  other  working  men  to  protect 
their  own  interests,  /say." 

Now  the  wrongs  of  the  farmers  was  a  theme  on 
which  Mr.  Deming  always  waxed  into  a  fiery  indig 
nation,  and  if  some  of  his  strong  speeches  on  this 
subject  could  have  been  uttered  in  the  ears  of  the 
Senatorial  "dough-heads"  (his  mildest  term  of  con 
tempt  for  law-makers  who  truckle  to  class  interests) 
it  might  have  made  their  ears  tingle,  but  would  cer 
tainly  have  done  them  no  harm. 

"They  says  there's  going  to  be  a  farmer's  grange 
started  in  Fairfield  afore  long,"  responded  Uncle 
Zeb. 

Mr.  Deming  broke  off  a  head  of  orchard  grass  that 
peeped  through  the  lattice,  and  chewed  one  end  of  it 
reflectively. 

"To  tell  the  truth  I  ain't  certain  about  these 
granges.  No  offence  to  you,  Uncle  Zeb,  but  I  want 
nothing  to  do  with  anything  that  is  patterned  after 


128  Between    Two   Opinions. 

Masonry,  and  1  have  alwaj's  been  suspicious  that  the 
grange  was  a  kind  of  Masonic  institution.  But  then 
I  don't  know  anything  about  it." 

"I  ain't  one  to  give  offence,  Mr.  Deming — least 
ways  not  when  I  know  it — and  I  never  take  what  I 
ain't  ready  to  give,"  was  Uncle  Zeb's  reassuring  re 
ply.  "I'm  a  Mason,  but  not  one  of  your  thin- 
skinned  kind.  There's  bad  and  there's  good  in 
Masonry,  and  I  see  no  sense  in  acting  as  though  the 
thing  was  a  powder  mill,  and  if  anybody  said  a  word 
it  would  blow  up.  But  I'll  tell  ye  how  I  look  on 
this  'ere  matter  of  the  grange.  It's  jest  a  new  kind 
of  machine.  Farmers  must  test  it  and  take  their 
chances.  It  may  break  down  arter  usin'  of  it  awhile 
and  cost  more  for  repairs  than  its  wuth.  And  it 
may  be  hard  to  get  the  hang  on't.  Some  machines 
are  awkward  things  if  a  green  hand  tries  to  run  'em 
without  knowing  how;  get  caught  in  'em  and  they'll 
pound  a  man  to  jelly  or  cut  him  up  into  inch  pieces. 
And  then  agin,  — " 

How  far  Uncle  Zeb's  lively  imagination  would 
have  carried  him  in  picturing  all  the  possibilities  of 
"the  machine"  must  forever  remain  among  the 
things  untold,  for  he  was  interrupted  at  this  junc 
ture  by  a  pretty,  girlish  figure  suddenly  framed  in 
the  doorway,  while  a  voice,  saucy  and  sweet  as  a 
bobolink's,  cried  out, — 

"Now,  Uncle  Zeb,  what  do  you  mean,  saying  such 
awful  things?  Father  will  be  more  prejudiced 
against  the  grange  than  ever,  and  I  was  hoping  they 
would  start  one  in  Fairfield  right  away." 


A  New  Kind  of  Machine.  129 

"I  only  called  it  a  machine,"  said  Uncle  Zeb, 
composedly.  "I  had  to  make  some  sort  of  a  com 
parison,  and  they  use  machines  for  everything  un 
der  the  sun,  nowadays,  so  that  seemed  to  come 
handiest.  I  never  said  whether  it  was  bad  or 
good." 

The  nymph  in  the  doorway  tossed  her  bright  head. 
She  and  Uncle  Zeb  were  used  to  bandying  words 
with  each  other,  and  both  enjoj'ed  the  exercise. 

"Well,  /think  it  is  good.  I  don't  like  Masonry, 
but  I  like  these  societies  that  women  and  girls  can 
join  as  well  as  men  and  have  a  nice  time.  And  they 
do  have  splendid  times  in  the  grange.  Mrs.  Thomp 
son  told  me  all  about  it." 

"Marthy  Washington!"  ejaculated  Uncle  Zeb,  who 
had  an  odd  habit  of  using  the  name  of  that  distin 
guished  lady  when  he  felt  the  need  of  a  mild  ex 
pletive.  "They  say  women  never  can  keep  secrets, 
and  now  I  shall  believe  it  sure  enough." 

"Oh,  nonsense,  Uncle  Zeb.  You  know  I  didn't 
mean  that  Mrs.  Thompson  told  me  an}~thing  she 
hadn't  a  right  to.  She  says  the  grange  is  really 
nothing  but  a  farmer's  club,  only  the  secrecy  makes 
more  fun.  You  will  join,  won't  you,  father?" 

"I  don't  know,  Dora.  I  shall  have  to  think  it 
over  first.  Of  course  its  natural  for  young  folks  to 
like  a  frolic,  but  a  society  that's  all  play  ain't  going 
to  benefit  the  farmers  much." 

"I  don't  fancy  the  idea  anyhow,"  put  in  Mrs. 
Deming,  very  decidedly,  from  her  seat  by  the  open 
window.  "I  remember  how  it  was  with  the  Good 


130  Between    Two   Opinions. 

Templars.  When  a  lodge  was  started  here  I  let 
Dora  join  because  I  thought  it  a  good  thing  for 
young  people  to  get  interested  in  temperance  work. 
But  the  way  they  carried  on!  The  last  time  Dora 
went  they  had  a  dance,  and  she  didn't  get  home  till 
after  midnight.  I  never  let  her  go  again,  and  so 
many  of  the  other  parents  in  Fairfield  thought  as  I 
did  that  the  lodge  died  down  in  less  than  a  year 
without  reforming  a  single  drunkard,  so  far  as  I 
could  find  out." 

"I  can  see  into  that  easy  enough,"  said  Uncle  Zeb. 
"I've  known  plenty  of  drinking  men  that  jined  the 
Good  Templars,  and  thought  they'd  reformed  as 
much  as  could  be,  but  when  they  had  gone  through 
it  all  there  wa'n't  anything  more  behind  to  hold  'em; 
and  so  they'd  go  back  to  their  cups,  and  their  'latter 
end  would  be  wussthan  their  beginning,'  as  Scripter 


"That  just  goes  to  prove  what  I've  said  all  along. 
If  you  want  to  reform  a  drunkard  better  try  and 
hitch  him  on  where  there  is  a  power  strong  enough 
to  hold  him  up.  I  never  knew  a  reformed  man  to 
join  the  church  and  give  good  evidence  of  conversion 
and  then  go  back  on  his  pledge.  It  is  in  reform  as 
it  is  in  everything  else.  If  we  want  to  accomplish 
anything  worth  speaking  of  we  must  buckle  down  to 
real,  right-down,  honest  work;  turning  work  into 
play  won't  answer." 

"That's  so,"  assented  Uncle  Zeb,  with  an  energy 
of  speech  not  at  all  abated  by  the  fact  that  he  cher 
ished  a  mortal  hatred  to  work  of  all  kinds. 


A  New  Kind  of  Machine.  131 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Deming,  "I'm  a  good  deal  of  my 
wife's  way  of  thinking  about  the  Good  Templars. 
But  the  grange  don't  pretend  to  have  an}'  moral  aim, 
1  take  it;  and  just  as  a  mutual  benefit  and  improve 
ment  society  for  the  farmers,  I  don't  see  as  there 
would  be  any  harm  in  starting  one  and  seeing  how 
the  thing  worked." 

"And  just  remember,  Mr.  Deming,  that  when  a 
man  invests  his  money  in  a  machine  that  don't  work 
he's  so  much  out  of  pocket." 

Which  was  touching  her  husband  on  a  weak  point 
— a  smooth-tongued  agent  having  once  beguiled  him 
into  doing  that  very  thing,  buying  a  new  kind  of 
patent  reaper  which  proved  worthless  when  it  came 
to  the  test. 

Uncle  Zeb  gave  a  mild  chuckle  of  inward  amuse 
ment.  "I  guess  you're  about  in  the  right  on't,  Mrs. 
Deming.  Well,  I  must  be  a  going.  Looks  as  though 
we  might  have  a  dry  spell.  I  see  the  moon  turns  up 
considerable." 

And  Uncle  Zeb  shambled  off  to  finish  his  evening 
round  of  gossip  somewhere  else,  while  Mrs.  Deming 
called  to  Dora  to  come  in  and  pick  over  a  pan  of 
beans  for  the  next  day's  dinner. 

Dora  obeyed,  thinking  meanwhile  just  such 
thoughts  as  come  naturally  into  a  young  and  foolish 
girl's  head.  She  was  prett}'  and  she  knew  it.  She 
was  fond  of  admiration  and  a  good  time,  and  all  the 
reason  why  she  wanted  to  see  a  grange  started  in 
Fairfield  was  because  its  meetings  promised  to  sup 
ply  her  with  both  those  desirable  things. 


132  Between   Two   Opinions. 

Mrs.  Deming's  rule  over  Dora  (who,  as  the  reader 
has  probably  guessed,  is  no  other  than  Nelson  New- 
hall's  sister)  had  been  vigorous  enough;  but  it  was 
the  vigor  of  real,  maternal  affection  to  which  we  can 
forgive  an  occasional  hardness  supposed  to  be  for  the 
good  of  the  subject.  Dora  was  Mr.  Deming's  pet; 
he  never  crossed  her  in  anything,  and  she  would  cer 
tainly  have  been  in  a  fair  way  to  be  spoiled  if  her 
adopted  mother's  sound  common  sense  had  not  come 
to  the  front. 

Under  this  combination  of  influences  Dora  Deming 
had  grown  up  a  bright,  merry,  thoughtless  creature^ 
loving  her  foster  parents  dearly,  popular  among  the 
young  people  of  her  own  age,  with  a  general  desire 
to  do  right;  and  sometimes,  under  an  especially  mov 
ing  sermon,  or  when  there  was  a  period  of  religious 
awakening,  feeling  a  vague  longing  after  something 
higher  and  nobler  than  her  life  had  yet  developed. 
In  short,  her's  was  a  nature  of  that  very  common 
and  mortal  type  from  which  most  of  the  happy 
wives  and  mothers  about  us  are  made.  But  as  she 
stands  in  the  Paradise  of  her  maiden  innocence  we 
have  grave  fears  for  Dora — unbalanced,  undisci 
plined,  ignorant  of  her  own  heart,  when  the  serpent 
whose  trail  is  over  every  earthly  Eden  whispers  in 
her  ear  his  subtle  temptation,  will  she  be  wiser, 
stronger  to  withstand  him  than  was  the  first  Eve? 
God  grant  it. 

Mrs.  Israel  Deming  has  spoken  for  herself.  She 
was  a  good  woman,  active  and  stirring,  who  placed 
laziness  in  the  same  category  with  dirt  and  flies  as 


A  New  Kind  of  Machine.  133 

a  thing  to  be  held  in.  utter  abomination;  but  at  the 
same  time  she  tolerated  Uncle  Zeb  with  a  good- 
natured,  half -contemptuous  tolerance  much  as  she 
would  a  monkey  or  a  parrot.  The  fact  is.  everybody 
has  a  tender  side  for  the  village  gossip  or  the  village 
joker,  and  Uncle  Zeb,  in  a  small  way,  practiced  both 
vocations. 

Mr.  Israel  Deming  was,  like  his  wife,  a  staunch 
church  member,  a  law-abiding,  law-upholding  Amer 
ican  citizen,  who  wanted  to  see  everything  of  a  ras 
cally  nature  put  down — so  effectually  that  it  would 
stay  put  down,  whether  it  was  polygamy  in  Utah  or 
a  whisky  ring  at  Washington.  He  was  also  an  Anti- 
mason,  though  not  very  thoroughly  instructed.  He 
had  a  plain,  honest  man's  dislike  to  fuss  and  feath 
ers  as  savoring  of  monarch! al  rather  than  republican 
institutions.  But  the  idea  of  the  grange  fell  in  with 
his  weak  side.  He  was  told  that  it  was  a  society  in 
tended  to  unite  American  farmers  in  one  grand  com- 
bination  against  the  gigantic  monopolies  that  were 
driving  them  to  the  wall. 

Now  there  were  some  things  Mr.  Deming  under 
stood  as  well  as  the  average  Congressman.  He  knew 
that  our  patent  laws,  which  could  be  so  grossly  pros 
tituted  as  to  tax,  in  the  interests  of  great  mone}*ed 
corporations,  ever\Tthing  used  in  working  his  farm 
down  to  the  very  material  with  which  he  built  his 
fences,  needed  a  thorough  overhauling.  He  knew 
that  gamblers  in  grain  were  allowed  to  depress  or 
inflate  the  markets  at  their  own  will  to  the  injury  of 
consumers  and  producers  alike;  and  railroad  mag- 


134  Between  Two   Opinions. 

nates  to  filch  their  heavy  dividends  on  watered  stock 
direct  from  the  pockets  of  the  long-suffering  farm 
ers;  while  Congress,  which  had  not  passed  a  single 
bill  of  any  importance  in  aid  of  the  agricultural  class 
since  the  Homestead  Act,  was  squandering  millions 
in  land  grants  to  corporations  of  its  own  creating, 
and  closing  up  vast  sections  of  the  public  domains 
to  the  poor  and  honest  settler.  Naturally  enough, 
he  thought,  it  was  time  that  government  should  be 
made  to  see  that  it  was  killing  the  goose  which  laid 
the  golden  egg.  But  what  spirit  of  madness  and 
folly  could  lead  honest,  intelligent  Israel  Deming, 
and  thousands  of  others  like  him,  to  imagine  that 
monopoly  could  overthrow  monopoly,  that  ring  rule 
could  banish  ring  rule,  and  the  devil  of  organized 
selfishness  cast  out  the  devil  of  political  bribery  and 
corruption? 

Mr.  Deming  disliked  secrecy,  and  all  dark-lantern 
ways  in  general,  but  to  such  infinitesimal  doses  as 
the  grange  offered  him,  coupled  as  it  was  with  a 
vague  promise  of  unknown  good,  he  felt  no  great 
objection.  And  in  spite  of  Uncle  Zeb's  oracular 
warnings  and  his  wife's  plainly-expressed  antipathy 
to  the  whole  thing,  Mr.  Deming  concluded  to  try 
"the  machine,"  with  a  result  which  we  will  leave  for 
future  chapters. 


CHAPTER  X. 

IX  WHICH  THE  QUESTION  IS  MET  FACE  TO  FACE. 

Nelson  went  to  his  work  day  after  day  with  a 
strange  new  sense  of  uneasiness.  There  was  an 
ominous  electricity  in  the  air — the  presence  of  un 
known  forces  which  he  could  not  guage  or  analyze 
an}'  more  than  he  could  that  mysterious  power  that 
can  change  the  face  of  the  solid  land  and  fling  up 
mountain  peaks  in  mid  ocean.  A  strike  in  the  dead 
of  winter,  with  all  its  entailed  idleness  and  pinching 
want,  was  a  folly  that  he  found  nearly  as  difficult  to 
understand  as  voluntary  suicide.  Nor  did  he  be 
lieve  that  the  men  themselves,  if  left  to  the  dictates 
of  their  own  common  sense,  would  adopt  a  remedy 
so  much  worse  than  the  disease;  but  he  strongly  sus 
pected  what  reall}'  proved  to  be  the  case,  that  the 
same  Union  agent  whose  advances  he  had  so  bluntly 
repelled  was  secretly  and  with  no  inconsiderable  suc 
cess  laboring  to  foment  discontent  among  the  other 
hands.  Some  hundreds  were  employed  in  the  works, 
foreigners  and  native  born,  as  miscellaneous  in  their 
political  and  religious  creed  as  in  their  nationality, 
but  nearly  all  bound  together  by  the  tie  of  the  secret 
Trades  Union. 

"The  fellow  is  a  disguised  socialist,"  he  said  to 
Martha;  "and  I  believe  he  is  doing  a  great  deal  of 


136  Between   Two  Opinions. 

mischief  in  his  smooth,  quiet  kind  of  way.  The  ma 
jority  of  the  men  are  too  ignorant  or  too  unthinking 
to  see  that  any  attempt  to  injure  capital  is  simply 
cutting  their  own  fingers.  They  know  they  are  un 
justly  treated,  and  the  impulse  is  to  strike  in  a 
blind,  blundering  fashion  at  what  they  think  is  hurt 
ing  them.  They  don't  stop  to  consider  that  three  or 
four  months  of  enforced  idleness,  during  which  he 
will  receive  no  wages  at  all,  is  an  injury  far  more 
real  to  the  working  man  than  to  be  docked  of  a  por 
tion,  however  unfairly.  But  I've  talked  till  I  begin 
to  think  the  wisest  way  is  to  keep  silence.  I  believe 
already  some  of  the  men — and  they  are  honest  fel 
lows  whose  good  opinion  I  value — are  beginning  to 
look  upon  me  as  taking  sides  with  their  employers, 
and  acting  the  part  of  a  traitor  to  my  own  class." 

"And  if  the  order  comes  to  strike?"  queried 
Martha. 

"I  shall  obey  it,  of  course.  To  do  anything  else 
would  be  like  trying  to  stem  the  tide  of  Niagara. 
If  it  was  merely  the  local  Union  one  had  to  with 
stand,  resistance  would  be  possible;  but  behind 
every  subordinate  Union  stands  the  National  Union, 
and  simply  to  attempt  resistance  would  be  to  be 
ground  between  the  upper  and  the  nether  millstones. 
You  know  I  don't  mean  to  go  back  on  what  I  have 
always  said,"  added  Nelson,  struck  by  a  sudden 
sense  of  incongruity  which  he  felt  that  the  keen 
witted  Martha  would  be  sure  to  note.  "Some  people 
call  this  depotism;  I  don't.  I  grant  that  the  Nation 
al  Union  wields  a  tremendous  power,  but  it  is  only 


TJie  Question  Met.  137 

what  the  workingman  needs  to  counterbalance  the 
money  power  of  the  capitalist.  I  grant,  too,  that 
like  other  kinds  of  power  it  is  liable  to  abuse  and 
incidental  disadvantages.  A  locomotive  is  an  ex 
cellent  thing,  but  it  sometimes  runs  off  the  track. 
So  is  a  steamboat,  but  it  sometimes  bursts  its  boil 
ers;  and  then  we  have  an  investigation,  and  a  ver 
dict  of  criminal  carelessness,  or  ignorance,  or  incom 
petence,  on  the  part  of  somebody  or  other;  but  no 
one  suggests  that  we  had  better  go  back  to  stages 
and  sailboats." 

Martha  knew  better  than  to  hint  that  all  this  elab 
orate  and  uncalled-for  display  of  argument  was  a 
confession  of  weakness;  an  attempt  to  convince  him 
self  rather  than  her;  and  Nelson  continued  after  a 
moment's  silence: 

"Of  course  I  have  my  private  reasons  for  not  de 
siring  a  strike  just  now.  My  board  will  be  paid  by 
the  Union,  and  something  additional  for  Tom's  sup 
port,  but  in  his  present  state  he  has  to  have  a  good 
many  things  in  the  way  of  food  and  medicine  that 
would  not  be  taken  into  the  account.  If  the  strike 
is  long  continued  I  shall  have  to  fall  back  on  the 
money  I  have  laid  up.  The  result  will  be  a  longer 
deferring  of  our  marriage  and  the  spoiling  of  a  good 
man\'  of  my  plans.  Still  I  don't  want  to  look  at  the 
matter  selfishly,  as  if  my  own  interest  was  the  only 
thing  to  be  considered.  If  Jacksonville  could  have 
been  carried  for  no-license  last  fall,  I  shouldn't  mind 
the  strike  half  so  much.  The  new  mayor  ma}'  talk 
temperance  as  much  as  he  pleases;  I  don't  trust  him. 


138  Between  Two   Opinions. 

He  was  elected  by  liquor  votes,  and  when  a  pinch 
comes  he  won't  dare  offend  the  party  to  whom  he 
owes  his  office.  So  this  is  the  way  the  few  govern 
the  many.  I  was  foolish  enough  once  to  suppose 
that  the  majority  ruled,  but  I'm  beginning  to  change 
my  mind." 

It  will  be  observed  that  in  thus  declaiming  against 
the  liquor  olig*arch}r,  while  he  patiently  submitted  to 
the  ordering  of  a  few  irresponsible  lodge  leaders, 
Nelson  was  straining  at  a  gnat  and  swallowing  a 
camel  in  the  sweetly  unconscious  fashion  of  our  in 
consistent  humanity  generally. 

"I  know  I  was  terribly  disappointed  with  the  re 
sults  of  the  last  election,"  said  Martha,  thoughtfully; 
"and  I  don't  think  I  felt  quite  right  about  it  till  Mrs. 
Haviland  talked  to  us  so  beautifully  at  our  last 
W.  C.  T.  U.  meeting.  She  gave  us  a  Bible  reading 
from  the  eighty-first  psalm,  dwelling  especially  on 
the  seventh  verse:  'I  answered  thee  in  the  secret 
place  of  thunder;  I  proved  thee  at  the  waters  of 
Meribah. '  She  said  some  among  us  could  look  back 
to  the  days  of  the  Crusades  when  we  were  small  and 
weak,  with  no  weapon  but  prayer,  and  remember 
how  gloriously  God  answered  us  'in  his  secret  place 
of  thunder.'  Now  we  are  an  army  with  banners 
marching  in  to  possess  the  land.  If  he  allowed  the 
wicked  a  momentary  triumph  it  was  only  to  prove 
us  as  he  proved  Israel  at  the  waters  of  Meribah. 
We  must  put  down  every  feeling  of  discouragement 
and  rest  patientl}'  in  the  promises;  and  when  we  had 
thus  prepared  the  way  for  him  in  our  hearts  we 


The  Question.  Met.  139 

should  see  his  salvation.  Nelson,  I  held  my  breath 
while  she  was  speaking.  I  am  not  a  perfectionist. 
I  don't  believe  the  best  of  us  live  without  sinning, 
yet  I  could  never  see  a  single  human  weakness  in 
that  woman.  I  remember  reading  somewhere  that 
refiners  of  silver  consider  the  process  finished  when 
the  metal  perfectly  reflects  the  face  of  the  person 
who  bends  over  the  crucible.  I  always  think  of  that 
when  I  see  Mrs.  Haviland  and  remember  what  she 
has  gone  through.  I  never  look  at  her  nor  hear  her 
speak  without  gaining  a  more  vivid  and  personal 
conception  of  Christ  himself,  as  a  real,  living,  ever- 
present  Saviour." 

Nelson  did  not  answer  for  a  moment,  and  then  he 
said  with  a  sigh.  "I  suppose  I  ought  to  have  a 
stronger  faith,  Martha;  but  I  believe  women  are  al 
ways  more  gifted  in  that  line  than  men." 

"Well,  you  see  it  gave  me  a  kind  of  new  revelation. 
I  went  away  from  the  meeting  perfectly  satisfied.  I 
hate  this  dreadful  business  as  much  as  ever,  and  my 
heart  is  just  as  sore  over  the  misery  it  causes;  but  I 
know  God  hates  it  worse  than  I  can  and  pities  its 
victims  infinitel}*  more.  And  I  feel  so  sure  the  day 
is  hastening  when  he  will  answer  the  prayers  of  the 
souls  crying  under  the  altar  that  I  am  willing  to  sec 
the  politicians  play  their  little  game  a  while  longer. 
I  am  even  willing  to  see  the  beauties  of  'high  license' 
illustrated  in  Jacksonville  the  coming  year." 

"High  fiddlesticks,"  said  Nelson.  "I  believe  it  is 
worse  in  one  sense  than  the  free,  unlicensed  sale, 
for  it  is  a  greater  swindle  and  delusion.  A  few  of 


140  Between    Two  Opinions. 

the  smaller  fry  among  the  saloon-keepers  will  have 
to  go  under,  but  that  will  only  make  better  standing 
room  for  the  others.  This  compromising  with  evil, 
I  hate.  I  want  the  lines  sharply  drawn.  If  there 
are  but  a  handful  on  the  right  side  and  Gk>d  with  us, 
I  don't  care.  Let  it  be  war  with  the  liquor  traffic, 
and  war  to  the  knife;  but  for  heaven's  sake  none  of 
these  disgraceful,  halting  compromises  that  only 
make  the  evil  worse." 

"Precisely  my  sentiments,  Mr.  Newhall;  but  how 
is  Tom  to-day?" 

"I  think  he  is  improving.  He's  certainly  stronger 
and  don't  cough  near  so  much.  I  have  been  careful 
not  to  give  him  liquor  in  his  medicines  in  even  the 
smallest  quantity,  and  since  his  sickness  he  has 
seemed  to  show  no  desire  for  it.  All  will  be  well  if 
his  appetite  for  drink  can  be  kept  dormant.  But,  O 
Martha,  just  think  for  a  moment  what  this  dreadful 
traffic  in  human  misery  has  done  for  me  and  mine! 
How  it  has  orphaned  us,  crushed  the  mind  of  my 
only  brother,  and  made  me  a  stranger  to  my  own 
sister!  And  yet  Government  sanctions  it,  coolly 
puts  the  wages  of  blood  into  its  treasury.  What  do 
they  care,  these  Congressmen,  only  to  keep  their 
places  and  draw  their  salaries." 

Nelson  spoke  bitterly;  but,  reader,  put  yourself  in 
the  place  of  this  young  workman  as  he  looked  back 
over  his  shadowed  childhood  and  sorrowful  youth, 
and  remembered  that  the  very  government  under 
which  he  was  born  had  made  itself  a  party  to  his 
wrongs. 


The  Question  Met.  141 

"Nelson,"  said  Martha,  taking  up  her  pocket 
Bible,  "let  me  read  you  something  that  has  com 
forted  me  a  great  man}-  times  when  everything 
looked  all  wrong  and  mixed  up.  -Fret  not  thyself 
because  of  evil-doers,  neither  be  thou  envious 
against  the  workers  of  iniquity.  For  they  soon  shall 
be  cut  down  like  the  grass  and  wither  as  the  green 
herb.  Trust  in  the  Lord  and  do  good;  so  shalt  thou 
dwell  in  the  land  and  verily  thou  shalt  be  fed.'  " 

Nelson's  brow  cleared.  It  seemed  so  like  his 
mother's  own  voice  that  he  felt  a  strange  calm  en 
wrap  his  soul  as  she  read.  The  eternal  rock  of 
God's  righteousness  stood  firm;  and  what  was 
human  wrong  and  injustice  but  passing  waves  that 
dashed  against  its  immovable  base  to  be  swept  into 
the  tide  of  the  yesterdays,  and  leave  not  a  trace  be 
hind  on  his  grand  to-morrow,  when  there  shall  be  a 
new  heavens  and  a  new  earth;  but  no  more  sea,  no 
angry  whirlpool  of  opposing  moral  issues,  but  for 
every  great  and  burning  question  that  agitates  the 
nations  to-day  a  final,  irrevocable  settlement  by  the 
laws  of  everlasting  Right. 

"Thank  you,  Martha,"  he  said  when  she  finished. 
"It  has  done  me  good." 

The  next  day — it  was  about  two  weeks  before  New 
Year's — the  order  came  to  strike.  It  was  a  cold, 
cloudy  morning,  the  call  to  work  had  just  sounded, 
and  the  men  were  trooping  in  with  their  dinner-pails, 
but  in  an  hour  the  whole  place  was  deserted  and 
silent.  A  Napoleon  might  have  envied  the  power 
which  had  only  to  issue  its  mandate  and  be  thus 


142  Between  Two   Opinions. 

obeyed.  To  be  sure  it  is  a  power  fraught  with  some 
danger — more  particularly  in  a  republic  which  as 
serts  every  fourth  of  July  as  its  foundation  doctrine, 
the  sacred,  inalienable  rights  of  the  individual  citi 
zen,  which  would  seem  to  include  among  other 
things  the  right  to  sell  his  own  work  at  his  own 
price. 

During  the  day  the  men  gathered  in  little  groups 
and  talked  over  the  situation.  There  were  rumors 
of  a  compromise.  It  was  said  that  the  emplo}Ters 
had  expressed  themselves  willing  to  make  certain 
concessions  if  met  half  way,  and  were  conferring  to 
this  end  with  a  committee  from  the  Union.  The  re 
sult  was  awaited  hopefully  by  some.  Others,  in 
whom  was  working  the  socialistic  leaven,  were  less 
anxious  for  a  peaceful  settlement  of  the  difficulty. 
Nelson  found  himself  in  the  course  of  the  day  in  the 
midst  of  one  of  these  groups. 

"Newhall  don't  believe  in  strikes;  thinks  the  man 
ufacturers  ought  to  be  allowed  to  make  their  pile  of 
money  and  grind  us  working  men  into  the  dirt," 
was  the  greeting  that  fell  on  his  ears  as  he  came 
up.  Nelson  happened  to  know  the  speaker  very 
well,  and  thought  this  a  good  chance  to  prove  to 
his  fellow-workmen  that  he  held  opinions  of  an 
exactly  opposite  tenor  to  those  imputed  to  him. 

"Now  be  fair,"  he  said  good-humoredly,  "and  let 
me  tell  you  what  I  really  do  think.  Granted  that 
every  manufacturer  in  the  country  is  making  his 
money  unjustly,  don't  that  money  go  to  create  more 
capital?  And  how  can  cutting  off  the  fountain 


The  Question  Met.  143 

which  supplies  us  with  our  wages  make  us  any  bet 
ter  off?  It  is  playing  a  game  in  which  we  have 
hardly  one  chance  in  a  thousand  of  coming  out 
ahead.  But  I  don't  believe,  and  I  want  you  to  un 
derstand  that  I  don't  believe,  in  tamely  submitting 
to  wrong.  I  am  only  talking  against  the  kind  of 
resistance  that  bounds  back  on  ourselves  and  leaves 
us  worse  off  than  we  were  before.  What  hinders  us 
working  men  from  putting  our  money  and  brains  to 
gether  and  running  factories  and  shops  and  mills  on 
our  own  account?  Now  there  would  be  a  kind  of  re 
sistance  based  on  justice  and  common  sense." 

"What  hinders  us?  Hain't  these  moneyed  rascals 
got  the  staff  in  their  own  hands?  and  don't  they 
mean  to  keep  it  there?" 

"How  did  they  get  it  in  the  first  place?"  asked 
Nelson,  coolly.  "Most  of  our  rich  men  began  life 
with  hardly  a  cent.  Now  I  think  it  is  a  pity  if  three 
or  four  hundred  working  men,  if  they  are  sober,  in 
dustrious  and  skillful  at  their  trade,  can't  be  equal 
to  at  least  one  capitalist." 

"That's  all  fool's  talk,"  growled  the  leader  in  the 
group,  a  man  of  German  parentage,  but  American 
born  and  bred.  '-The  power  is  all  on  the  side  of  the 
rich,  and  there's  got  to  be  a  revolution,  a  turning 
upside  down  of  society  before  things  will  be 
righted." 

"But  just  remember."  answered  Nelson,  good- 
naturedly,  "that  when  this  general  overturning 
comes  on  if  }-ou  and  I  should  happen  to  be  under 
the  heap  it  might  be  awkward  for  us.  Volcanoes 


144  Between  Two   Opinions. 

and  earthquakes  may  be  necessary  things,  but  it 
always  seemed  to  me  that  I  had  a  little  rather  keep 
out  of  their  range.  The  fact  is,  Schumacher,  you 
have  read  these  papers  that  talk  as  if  American 
working  men  were  all  in  a  state  of  serfdom  till  you 
have  begun  to  believe  it  It  is  no  such  thing.  Not 
a  capitalist  under  heaven  could  'grind  us  into  the 
dirt'  if  we  all  understood  as  we  ought  to  that  labor 
has  got  a  vantage  ground  of  its  own.  Our  numbers 
are  our  def  enced  city,  and,  to  make  it  as  impregnable 
as  Gribralter,  we  only  need  intelligence,  sobriety, 
economy,  and  I  am  going  to  add,  though  I  know  you 
have  thrown  both  these  things  overboard,  faith  in 
God  and  hope  in  a  hereafter." 

"Hang  your  religious  rubbish.  What  do  we  know 
about  a  hereafter,  whether  we  shall  be  nothing  or 
start  up  cabbages." 

"For  my  part,"  responded  Nelson,  "I  had  rather 
a  good  honest  cabbage  should  spring  from  my  dust 
and  that  be  the  end  of  me  than  to  go  into  the  other 
world  weighed  down  with  all  the  rascalities  and 
meannesses  that  some  men  have  to  carry  with  them, 
and  if  your  belief  helps  to  make  life  more  cheerful, 
why  I  am  glad.  It  would  have  just  the  opposite  ef 
fect  on  me.  But  we  are  wandering  wide  of  the 
question.  What  hinders  us  working  men?  What 
is  the  foe  in  the  rear  that  is  always  hanging  on  the 
skirts  of  the  great  army  of  labor?  It  is  these  thou 
sands  on  thousands  of  legalized  dramshops  scattered 
over  the  country.  So  long  as  we  are  content  to  keep 
an  army  of  lazy  saloonists  living  on  the  fat  of  the 


The  Question  Met.  145 

land  there  is  no  sense  nor  reason  in  our  cursing  capi 
talists.  Just  look  at  this  thing  a  minute.  The  nine 
hundred  millions  that  it  takes  every  year  to  keep 
the  country's  one  hundred  and  seventy-five  thousand 
dramshops  running  means  so  many  millions  less  to 
run  its  shops  and  stores  and  mills;  and  do  you  sup 
pose  because  you  are  neither  drunkards  nor  tipplers 
yourselves  that  you  can  escape  pa}'ing  your  share  of 
this  enormous  tax  when  it  is  money  taken  right  out 
of  every  honest  business  by  which  working  men  earn 
their  living?  This  monstrous  traffic  sucks  indus 
try's  very  life  blood,  and  which  side,  think  you,  feels 
the  drain  the  most,  the  capitalist  who,  when  he  sees 
a  hard  time  ahead,  can  haul  in  his  sails  with  no 
great  inconvenience  to  himself  and  wait  till  the 
storm  blows  over?  or  the  average  working  man  to 
whom  a  'shut  down'  means  less  food,  less  fire,  less 
of  everything  that  makes  life  comfortable  and  pleas 
ant?  Take  off  this  terrible  tariff,  this  millstone 
round  the  neck  of  labor,  and  what  would  be  the  re 
sult?  Why,  it  would  increase  its  earning  power  at 
least  one-third,  which  is  the  same  as  to  say  that  you 
let  rum  take  one  dollar  out  of  every  three  you  earn, 
and  bear  it  patiently,  while  you  grumble  and  growl 
if  a  manufacturer  cuts  you  down  in  your  wages 
twenty  cents!" 

Two  of  the  men  laughed.  The  third  one  looked 
thoughtful.  The  fourth  member  of  the  party,  which 
was  Schumacher,  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"We  are  not  Grand  Moguls.  Liquor  will  be  sold 
and  drank  for  all  us." 


146  Between  Two   Opinions. 

"So  it  will  while  we  allow  it.  As  a  class  we  hold 
the  sovereign  power  in  our  own  hands,  and  if,  in 
stead  of  listening  to  political  demagogues  every  elec 
tion,  each  working  man  would  make  his  ballot  a 
straight  shot  at  the  rum  power,  I  warrant  that  it 
wouldn't  be  a  great  while  before  our  Senators  and 
Representatives  at  Washington  would  get  some  new 
light  on  the  subject.  Better  read  over  again  the 
fable  of  Hercules  and  the  wagoner.  If  we  working 
men  are  ever  to  improve  our  condition  the  help  must 
come  from  ourselves  first.  And  it  won't  come  by 
sitting  still  and  railing  against  the  rich.  If  they 
oppress  us  the  worst  is  their  own,  but  at  the  least 
they  give  us  work  and  wages.  What  does  the  liquor 
power  do  for  us?  Cripples  and  paralyzes  every  sin 
gle  industry  by  which  we  earn  our  bread.  Let  us 
roll  that  burden  from  our  shoulders  and  then  labor 
will  be  prepared  to  resist  the  tyranny  of  capital  to 
some  purpose." 

But  talk  like  this  was  making  Nelson  unpopular, 
for  though  his  fellow-workmen  dimly  realized  that 
he  stood  on  a  higher  mental  plane  than  the  most  of 
them;  had  read  more,  thought  more,  and  observed 
more — still  there  were  many,  as  he  told  Martha,  who 
construed  his  words  into  a  tacit  desertion  of  their 
cause,  and  turned  the  cold  shoulder  on  him  in  con 
sequence. 

He  went  back  to  his  boarding-place  feeling  as  if  it 
was  a  strange  new  kind  of  Sunday  without  the  Sab 
bath  peace  and  spirit  of  "devotion.  Tom  was  sitting 
in  his  old  place  coughing  feebly,  and  watching  with 


The  Question  Met.  147 

dull,  vacant  gaze  a  belated  fly  that  was  slowly  and 
stiffly  buzzing  about  in  a  streak  of  cold,  white  sun 
shine. 

Outwardly  Tom  bore  a  much  closer  resemblance  to 
his  mother  than  either  of  the  two  others.  As  nature 
had  given  him  at  the  start  a  much  weaker  physical 
frame  than  the  stalwart  Nelson,  so  she  had  cast  his 
features  in  a  proportionately  finer  mould;  and  the 
epileptic  fits  which  had  fastened  on  him  in  child 
hood,  the  result  of  that  injury  to  the  brain  received 
from  his  father's  drunken  blow,  however  they  might 
dim  his  intellect  could  not  wholly  mar  the  original 
beauty  of  the  chiseling. 

"Well,  Tom,  old  fellow!"  was  Nelson's  cheery 
greeting;  "I'm  going  to  stay  with  you  all  day.  What 
do  you  say  to  that?  It  seems  good  to  see  the  sun 
coming  out.  Let  me  wheel  }'our  chair  into  it." 

Nelson  had  devoted  himself  heart  and  soul  to  his 
unfortunate  brother  without  the  least  idea  that  he 
was  doing  anything  very  noble,  or  worthy  of  particu 
lar  remark.  There  are  natures  that  seem  to  be  mor 
ally  "born  in  the  purple,"  and  the  most  unlimited 
drafts  on  their  generous  self-devotion  are  honored  at 
first  sight  with  the  confidence  of  one  who  has  in  his 
soul  a  whole  royal  exchequer  to  draw  from. 

So  he  had  fought  Tom's  battles  with  a  rude  and 
scornful  world,  and  no  wonder  that  he  seemed  to  the 
latter  a  perfect  incarnation  of  wisdom  and  strength. 
Tom  stood  somewhat  in  fear  of  him,  it  is  true,  but  it 
was  that  kind  of  fear  which  we  are  told  in  Scripture 
is  not  inconsistent  with  the  highest  love;  and  when 


148  Between  Two   Opinions. 

his  fit  of  coughing  subsided,  he  showed  Nelson  with 
much  delight  a  newspaper  on  which  he  gravely 
marked  with  his  forefinger  a  length  of  about  two 
columns  and  a  half.  To  make  believe  read  was  one 
of  Tom's  amusements,  and  Nelson  always  humored 
him  by  taking  the  matter  very  seriously. 

"All  that  this  morning!  You've  done  bravely, 
Tom,  since  I've  been  gone.  I'm  thinking  you'll  be 
lots  of  help  to  me  when  I  get  my  farm." 

Tom  smiled  contentedly.  That  farm  was  his 
Eldorado.  His  feeble  mind  made  his  anticipations 
of  its  freedom,  plenty  and  varied  delights  like  a 
child's,  a  pleasure  from  which  all  elements  of  care, 
worry,  or  possible  disappointment  were  entirely 
eliminated.  Though  Nelson  did  not  now  feel  in  just 
the  mood  for  such  castle-building,  he  went  over  the 
story  again  for  Tom's  amusement,  and  when  he  could 
think  of  no  further  enlargements  or  additions  that 
could  be  truthfully  made  to  it,  he  began  to  sing  in  a 
melodious,  baritone  voice — 

"On  Jordan's  stormy  banks  I  stand 

And  cast  a  wishful  eye, 
To  Canaan's  fair  and  happy  land, 
Where  my  possessions  lie." 

In  singing  to  Tom  he  generally  chose  old-fash 
ioned  hymns.  They  chimed  in  best  with  his  strong, 
thoughtful,  earnest,  nature;  and  they  reminded  him, 
besides,  of  his  mother.  How  she  used  to  satisfy  the 
hunger  of  her  homesick  heart  with  Watt's  grand  old 
lyrics! 

When  he  reached  the  last  line  of  the  hymn  Tom 
was  asleep.  Nelson  got  up,  poked  the  fire  a  little, 


Ttie  Question  Met.  149 

and  then  took  the  newspaper  which  Tom  had 
dropped.  He  looked  over  the  usual  list  of  murders, 
wife-beatings,  and  brutal  assaults  in  which,  strangely 
enough,  high-licensed  whisky  appears  to  be  just  as 
prolific  as  the  more  plebeian  sort  which  lacks  that 
peculiar  stamp  of  respectability;  and  then  he  passed 
to  the  column  headed,  "Labor  Troubles."  Every 
where  there  seemed  to  be  an  epidemic  of  strikes.  In 
the  coal-fields  Molly  Maguirism  was  cropping  out. 
and  the  whole  industrial  world  appeared  to  be  gener 
ally  in  a  state  of  upheaval  and  disturbance. 

Nelson  took  a  pencil  and  figured  up  on  the  white 
margin  something  like  a  rough  approximation  to  the 
sum  lost  by  labor  per  week.  Startling  as  were  the 
figures,  he  knew  he  had  under-rated  the  factors  by 
which  he  had  obtained  this  result 

And  what  of  that  vast  sum  lost  every  year  by  the 
liquor  traffic?  Nelson  was  enough  of  a  political 
economist  to  understand  with  Adam  Smith  that  the 
one  great  law  on  which  all  equitable  trade  is  built  is 
the  law  of  corresponding  values;  in  other  words, 
that  value  taken  must  always  mean  value  received  in 
something  of  direct  profit  or  service  to  the  buyer. 
And  when  the  liquor  business  ignores  utterly  this 
underlying  law  in  political  economy,  this  rule  of  re 
ciprocal  giving  and  taking,  and  decrees  that  all  the 
profit  and  advantage  shall  be  on  one  side  only,  can 
such  mischievous  violation  of  so  fundamental  a  prin 
ciple  help  reacting  disastrously  on  trade?  Is  it  not 
laying  a  hand  on  the  very  main-spring  of  every  law 
ful  industry?  and  must  not  the  legitimate  fruits  be 


150  Between   Two   Opinions. 

dull  times,  poverty,  distress,  and  that  remedy  worse 
than  the  disease — strikes? 

And  what  of  the  liquor  power  as  a  ruling  force  in 
government?  Did  not  every  election  prove  that  its 
immense  wealth  was  simply  a  bribery  fund?  To 
this  corrupt  and  corrupting  factor  in  politics  with 
its  hundreds  of  millions  annually  stolen  from  the 
people,  could  anything  be  said  to  be  impossible  in 
the  way  of  chicanery  and  fraud?  One  wrong  fos 
tered,  one  injustice  upheld  made  room  for  others  to 
gather  their  foul  brood  under  the  same  broad  shield 
of  national  law;  and  legislative  integrity  thus  sapped, 
on  what  could  the  poor  man  base  any  reasonable 
hope  of  being  protected  from  the  greed  of  unscrupu 
lous  money  kings  and  soulless  corporations? 

Nelson  wanted  to  confront  the  question  fairly. 
He  believed  he  had  done  so,  when  in  reality  he  had 
seen  but  one  side  of  this  double-faced  Janus. 


CHAPTER  XL 

WHICH    TREATS    OF    MATTERS    HISTORICAL    AND    PRO 
PHETIC. 

At  this  juncture  we  perceive  a  growing  restless 
ness  among  some  of  our  readers.  Countless  voices 
are  raised  in  defence  of  their  own  pet  insurance 
society,  and  learned  college  professors  hope  we  shall 
not  be  so  unwise  and  unjust  as  to  include  their  be 
loved  Greek  letter  fraternities  in  the  same  condem 
nation.  And  as  many  of  these  good  people  take 
pains  to  assure  us  that  they  are  opposed  to  Masonry; 
that  they  have  some  adequate  idea  of  its  ability  to 
corrupt  the  courts,  paralyze  the  hand  of  justice,  and 
shield  every  murderer,  rumseller,  or  bank  defaulter 
who  puts  his  trust  in  its  shadow,  we  will  stop  the 
thread  of  our  story  long  enough  to  relate  a  certain 
episode  in  the  career  of  Napoleon,  which,  though  un 
familiar  to  the  average  student,  was  one  of  those 
hidden  factors  of  Providence  which  bring  about  the 
mysterious  and  unlooked-for  results  that  so  often 
baffle  human  calculations. 

At  the  very  threshold  of  his  conquests,  at  the 
very  moment  when  his  hand  was  stretched  out  to 
grasp  imperial  power,  he  met,  like  the  heroes  of 
Greek  story,  a  dragon  to  stay  his  farther  progress. 
That  dragon  was  Freemasonry.  Masonic  lodges 

' 


152  Between   Two   Opinions. 

covered  alike  Protestant  Germany  and  Catholic 
Spain.  Under  their  mask  aristocrat  and  anarchist, 
free-thinker  and  Jesuit,  could  plot  together  in  a  hor 
rible  unity — the  unity  of  the  pit.  Already  it  had 
overthrown  the  Puritan  commonwealth  in  England, 
and  lighted  in  Paris  the  lurid  flames  of  the  French 
Revolution. 

Two  courses  lay  open  before  him.  He  could  grap 
ple  with  the  monster — crush,  annihilate  it  if  possible; 
or  he  could  make  it  his  tool,  his  slave,  his  faithful 
ally.  The  "Man  of  Destiny,"  whom  neither  Alps  nor 
Russian  snows  could  daunt,  and  at  the  tread  of 
whose  armed  hosts  all  Europe  was  shaking  in  terror, 
quailed  before  the  first  alternative  and  chose  the 
second.  At  his  dictation  his  own  trusted  generals 
and  marshals  entered  the  various  lodges,  became 
their  leaders,  and  controlled  them  completely  in  the 
interests  of  imperialism  till  St.  Helena  ended  the 
drama. 

t  was  not  the  first  time  that  Masonry  has  been 
paid  in  her  own  coin,  nor  will  it  be  the  last  that  this 
spiritual  sorceress  in  her  trade  of  duping  and  fooling 
men  has  been  made  herself  the  dupe  and  fool  of 
crowned  and  mitred  heads.  This  shrewd  stroke  of 
Napoleonic  policy  was  only  a  slight  variation  of  her 
own  favorite  game,  and  one  which  she  is  now  play 
ing  in  our  own  free  Columbia  with  much  success. 

Odd-fellowship  and  the  hundreds  of  minor  secret 
orders  she  officers  with  her  own  most  tried  and 
trusted  generals,  and  has  no  desire — indeed  would 
have  the  greatest  objection  to  see  the  rank  and  file 


History  and  Prophecy.  153 

turn  Masons.  She  well  knows  that  the}*  make  far 
more  tractable  subjects  as  the}*  are.  Vowed  to  obey 
unquestiomngly  Masonic  superiors,  and  those  super 
iors  sworn  in  turn  to  obey  all  above  them  in  contin 
ual  gradations  till  the  apex  is  reached  at  the  top  of 
which  sits  the  commander-in-chief  in  the  shape  of  a 
most  Sublime  and  Illustrious  Sovereign  Grand  In 
spector  General,  we  can  easily  see  how  with  only  the 
bridle  of  a  minor  temperance  order  the  whole  body 
can  be  turned  about  in  any  given — Masonic — direc 
tion. 

The  strike  continued,  with  no  prospect  of  a  speedy 
end;  and  many  of  the  workmen  found  their  unoccu 
pied  hours  dragged  less  heavily  if  passed  in  some 
place  of  common  resort.  Unluckily  there  were 
enough  saloons  left  in  Jacksonville  to  supply  that 
want;  and  they  furnished  precisely  the  soil  needed 
for  the  sprouting  of  socialistic  tares,  though  the  pre 
viously  mentioned  "Union  agent,"  having  finished 
his  seed  sowing,  had  some  time  before  left  for  "pas 
tures  new."  The  saloon-keepers,  warned  by  the 
popular  storm  which  had  so  nearly  wrecked  their 
business,  and  with  some  little  fear  of  the  W.  C. 
T.  U.,  practiced  more  circumspection  and  more 
secrecy;  but  bar-rooms  fitted  up  underground  may 
be  as  favorable  gathering-places  as  the  cave  of 
Adullam  for  "every  one  that  is  discontented"  with 
the  prevailing  order  of  society;  and  it  is  certain  that 
over  the  fiery  potations  there  dealt  out  strange 
threats  were  sometimes  uttered,  and  the  speeches  of 
noted  communistic  leaders  quoted  with  a  gusto  that 


154  Between  Two  Opinions. 

would  have  been  far  from  pleasant  to  peaceful  and 
law-abiding  ears. 

"I  believe  there  is  more  drink  sold  in  Jackson 
ville  now  than  before  the  strike,"  said  Nelson  to 
Martin  Treworthy  one  morning  in  the  latter  part  of 
February.  "What  is  our  'temperance'  mayor  about?" 

"Fulfilling  his  Masonic  obligations,"  growled  Mar 
tin.  "Liquor  men  and  Good  Templars  voted  to 
gether  for  him  last  fall,  so  now  he's  got  to  be  'all 
things  to  all  men'  in  a  sense  the  Apostle  Paul  never 
dreamed  of.  But  then  it  comes  tolerable  easy  to  a 
man  that  has  taken  a  dozen  or  two  of  Masonic  de 
grees." 

"The  strike  ought  to  have  been  at  an  end  long 
ago,"  said  Nelson,  choosing  to  ignore  this  explana 
tion  of  the  case.  "I  know  men  that  were  steady  and 
industrious  before  it  happened,  and  now  they  spend 
in  drink  half  the  money  allowed  them  by  the  Union 
to  support  their  families.  It  is  ruinous,  it  is  suicid 
al — this  long,  fruitless  strife  in  which  nothing  is 
gained  and  everything  lost  on  the  side  least  capable 
of  bearing  loss.  It  is  the  ambition  and  selfishness 
of  men  like  G-errish  and  Reynolds  that  is  prolonging 
this  state  of  affairs,  and  I've  about  made  up  my 
mind  to  break  with  the  Union  entirely  if  I've  got  to 
be  under  such  leaders." 

A  dry  smile  curled  Martin's  lips.  He  was  not  at 
all  averse  to  seeing  this  young  Hercules  of  labor 
chafe  under  his  lodge  fetters.  Perhaps  Nelson  did 
not  see  the  smile.  He  went  on. 

"They  have  stood  from  the  first  of  it  right  in  the 


History  and  Prophecy.  155 

way  of  an}'  adjustment  of  the  difficulty.  The  man 
ufacturers  were  ready  for  a  compromise  long  ago, 
that  the  majority  of  the  men — I  for  one — would 
have  been  willing  to  accept.  Here  we  are  losing 
money  and  time,  and  suffering  all  the  demoralizing 
influences  that  come  from  idleness.  But  what  do 
these  men  care  for  that?  They  don't  want  to  see 
the  wrongs  of  labor  righted.  It  is  for  their  interest 
to  keep  up  this  strife  and  contention.  It  is  the  way 
they  get  their  living.  They  are  too  lazy  to  work, 
and  to  beg  they  are  ashamed,  but  they  manage  some 
way  to  get  all  the  offices  themselves,  and  wear  their 
kid  gloves  and  draw  their  comfortable  salaries,  and 
we  working  men  must  submit  to  their  tyranny." 

The  reader  may  perhaps  remember  that  Nelson 
had  once  himself  innocently  informed  Martin  Tre- 
worthy  that  the  leaders  of  the  Union  were  generally 
Masons  or  Odd-fellows.  But  the  latter  made  no  al 
lusion  to  this  fact  as  furnishing  a  possible  kejv  to 
the  nn'stery  of  these  easy  berths.  Experience  was 
beginning  to  teach  Nelson  a  good  many  truths  be 
fore  unheeded,  and  he  was  quite  willing  to  leave 
him  for  awhile  to  the  tutelage  of  this  stern  in 
structor. 

"The  fact  is  they  represent  no  interests  but  their 
own,  and  I  don't  wonder  the  manufacturers  refuse 
to  treat  with  them.  I  should  in  their  place.  I  heard 
to-day  that  the  works  were  going  to  start  up  next 
week  with  a  large  force  of  non-union  laborers,  and  if 
the  new  hands  can't  be  intimidated  or  bought  off 
there  will  be  trouble.  I  see  it  and  feel  it." 


156  Between  Two   Opinions. 

"And  that  no  man  might  buy  or  sell  save  he  that 
had  the  mark  or  the  name  of  the  beast  or  the  num 
ber  of  his  name,"  slowly  repeated  Martin  Treworthy. 

"But  I  always  thought  the  beast  was  popery. 
Commentators  explain  -it  so,"  added  Nelson,  inno- 
centty. 

"When  I  see  prophecy  fulfilled  right  before  my 
eyes  I  don't  have  to  go  to  the  D.D.s"  returned  Mar 
tin,  dryly.  "But  I  hain't  got  no  grudge  against 
Masonry  for  anything  it  has  done  to  me,  though  I 
remember  in  one  of  the  first  battles  of  the  war  how, 
as  we  were  retiring,  I  turned  right  back  in  the  very 
face  of  the  rebs  as  they  were  dashing  down  hill — I 
don't  know  what  possessed  me  unless  it  was  the 
spirit  of  G-ideon — and  picked  up  our  colors  and  car 
ried  them  safe  into  camp;  but  I  never  got  any  pro 
motion  for  it,  though  I  was  told  if  I'd  only  been  a 
Mason  I  should  have  got  promoted  fast  enough." 

'That  was  shameful  injustice,"  said  Nelson,  indig 
nantly. 

"I  want  you  to  understand,"  replied  Martin  Tre 
worthy,  coolly,  "that  its  losing  me  a  pair  of  shoul 
der-straps  don't  make  it  that  there's  any  debt  or 
credit  account  between  us.  "Why,  I  read  that  thir 
teenth  chapter  in  Revelations  nigh  a  hundred  times 
on  my  bended  knees  before  the  Lord  revealed  to  me 
what  it  meant.  It  was  the  Spirit  of  'the  Lord  that 
taught  me  to  hate  Masonry,  not  anything  it  has  done 
to  me  or  mine.  It  seemed  as  if  I  could  see  the* 
beast,  and  the  long  procession  of  worshipers  filing 
up — lawyers  that  wanted  clients,  and  ministers  that 


History  and  Prophecy.  157 

wanted  pulpits,  and  politicians  that  wanted  office: 
and  all  the  murderers  and  adulterers  and  rumsellers 
that  wanted  to  get  clear  of  the  gallows  and  the  jail-, 
small  and  great,  rich  and  poor,  bond  and  free,  wear 
ing  his  mark  on  their  foreheads  or  in  their  hands. 
Then  the  thought  came  to  me  that  worship  always 
implies  a  religion  of  some  kind,  and  so  the  beast 
must  represent  some  universal  religion.  And  as  it 
was  in  the  likeness  of  a  lamb,  but  not  the  Lamb  as 
it  had  been  slain,  it  must  be  a  religion  of  works 
without  an}'  atonement.  And  with  that  the  Holy 
Spirit  flashed  the  truth  right  into  my  mind.  As 
Masonry  required  worship  without  Christ,  and  prom 
ised  salvation  without  repentance,  it  was  the  only 
religion  that  would  suit  the  natural  heart  every 
where.  And  I  saw  that  in  its  pride,  lust  of  power, 
blasphemy,  and  spirit  of  persecution,  it  was  an 
image  of  the  old  papal  beast;  and  every  secret  order, 
whether  it  was  in  Russia,  Africa  or  America,  was  an 
image  of  Masonry.  A  religion  that  will  suit  every 
body,  Jew  or  Christian  or  heathen,  must  be  the  same 
in  principle  the  world  over,  and  yei  be  able  to 
change  its  outward  shape.  That  is  what  Masonry 
does  in  all  the  little  secret  orders;  it  changes  its 
shape,  but  it  is  the  same  thing  at  heart- — anti-Christ, 
whose  coming  is  with  all  manner  of  deceiveableness. 
And  when  the  Lord  showed  me  this  I  was  astonished 
like  Ezekiel  by  the  river  of  Chebar.  But  I  knew 
*there  was  more  light  to  come.  So  I  considered  fur 
ther  on  the  matter,  and  I  saw  that  until  the  time  of 
the  end  all  the  great  world  powers  like  slavery  and 


158  Between  Two   Opinions. 

rum  and  Mormonism  would  'agree  to  give  their 
kingdom  unto  the  beast.'  And  from  the  day  that 
the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  revealed  this  to  me — mind,  I 
hadn't  read  a  tract,  book,  or  paper  about  it  then — 
I've  fought  the  evil  thing  with  might  and  main,  and 
I  mean  to  keep  on  fighting  it  to  the  last.  To  see  the 
victory  will  be  for  younger  eyes  than  mine,  but  I'm 
satisfied  so  long  as  I  know  who  my  Leader  is." 

And  the  grizzly-headed  hero  of  more  and  different 
battles  than  Nelson  ever  dreamed  of  took  his  de 
parture,  leaving  the  latter  feeling  rather  uncomfort 
able.  He  was  thoroughly  disgusted  with  the 
tyranny  of  the  Union,  while  his  apprehensions  of 
more  serious  trouble  yet  to  follow  made  the  low, 
monotonous  undertone  of  Martin  Treworthy's  speech 
seem  like  the  far  off  thunders  of  a  coming  judgment. 

Could  he  have  overheard  a  conversation  that  was 
going  on  meanwhile  in  one  of  the  basement  saloons 
at  which  the  new  mayor,  in  due  respect  to  his  Ma 
sonic  vows,  had  found  it  convenient  to  wink,  it 
would  only  have  darkened  his  musings. 

Beside  a  table  covered  with  green  cloth,  each  with 
a  glass  of  beer  before  him,  sat  two  men.  In  the 
features  of  one  was  a  hint  of  Celtic  extraction;  he 
had  very  white  teeth  that,  when  he  smiled,  seemed 
to  have  the  treacherous  gleam  of  a  wild  beast's,  was 
graceful  in  person,  and  rather  particular  about  his 
dress — a  kind  of  Americanized  Robespierre.  It  is 
not  an  enjoyable  fact  to  ponder,  but  it  is  a  fact 
nevertheless,  that  we  have  in  our  midst  men  of  the 
same  type  with  that  blood-thirsty  triumvirate  who 


History  and  Prophecy.  159 

ruled  Paris  in  '93,  though  our  American  sun  of  free 
dom  shines  rather  too  brightly  in  their  eyes,  and 
they  generally  burrow  in  the  darkness  of  illicit 
saloons  and  secret  lodges. 

The  other  man  was  coarse-featured,  large-boned, 
much  given  to  profanity,  and  wore  a  Knight  Tem 
plar's  badge  conspicuously  displayed.  The  fumes 
of  their  cigars  mingled  sociably  together  as  they 
sipped  their  beer  and  conversed  in  low  and  confi 
dential  tones;  and,  in  short,  they  answered  very  well 
to  that  graphic  description  given  by  David  in  the 
sixty-fourth  psalm  of  the  wicked  "in  secret  counsel." 

"Don't  forget  a  good  stiff  glass  of  whisky  all 
round  to  prime  'em  up  for  the  job,  Reynolds,71  said 
the  personage  first  described.  At  which  reminder 
the  other  only  nodded  as  if  he  was  in  no  danger  of 
neglecting  so  important  a  matter,  while  the  first  one 
continued. 

"That  cranky  fool,  Newhall,  must  be  made  to  hold 
his  tongue.  All  the  opposition  to  the  strike  has 
been  stirred  up  by  him." 

"Not  so  easy;  he's  deep  as  a  well." 

"A  knife  for  traitors,"  was  the  significant  re 
sponse.  This  laconic  remark,  however,  was  not 
quite  original,  being  in  reality  quoted  from  a  late 
speech  of  Herr  Most 

"If  you  ain't  a  cool  one,  Gerrish!''  exclaimed  the 
other  with  an  oath,  clapping  his  companion  on  the 
shoulder.  "You'd  be  a  match  for  the  devil  him 
self." 

"Bah!"  was  the  scornful  reply.     "Keep  that  old 


160  Between    Two   Opinions. 

woman's  talk  to  yourself.  I  don't  believe  in  a  devil 
no  more  than  I  do  in  a  God.  Men  are  what  we've 
got  to  deal  with  in  this  age  of  the  world." 

Reynolds  was  used  to  being  snubbed  and  lectured 
by  his  chief,  and  his  only  answer  was  to  drain  his 
glass  and  meekly  wait  further  orders. 

But  of  this  precious  pair,  in  whose  creed  dynamite 
and  whisky  were  the  leading  articles  of  belief,  we 
shall  give  the  reader  out  of  respect  to  his  moral  and 
religious  scruples  at  being  placed  in  such  company, 
but  the  briefest  possible  glimpse.  Reynolds  was 
blacklisted — discharged  for  his  own  fault,  but  he 
represented  himself  as  persecuted  for  belonging  to 
the  Union,  and  played  the  martyr  role  with  such  suc 
cess  that  he  found  himself  hoisted  at  once  into  a 
place  of  power  and  notoriety  very  much  to  his  lik 
ing,  and  where  he  drew  a  salary  larger  than  his  lost 
wages.  He  was  obliged  to  play  second  fiddle  to 
Gerrish,  however,  for  though  not  so  much  of  a  bully 
and  a  blackguard  the  latter  was  a  born  leader,  and 
by  far  the  more  dangerous  of  the  two.  He  had  not 
been  long  in  Jacksonville,  and  Nelson  as  well  as 
many  of  his  fellow-workmen  were  inclined  to  resent 
this  dictatorial  sway  of  one  whose  antecedents  were 
so  little  known,  quite  forgetting  that  there  was  a 
slight  inconsistency  involved  in  such  a  state  of  feel 
ing.  Had  they  not  sworn  to  obey  all  the  rules  and 
regulations  of  the  Grand  Lodge?  thus  virtually  plac 
ing  themselves  under  the  complete  despotic  control 
of  its  chief — a  man  they  knew  as  little  about  as  they 
did  of  the  Shah  of  Persia? 


History  and  Prophecy.  161 

The  variety  of  uses  to  which  secrecy  may  be  put 
is  an  important  but  neglected  branch  of  knowledge 
among  the  great  bulk  of  its  simple-minded  members. 
Missionaries  in  Africa  tell  us  of  secret  societies 
among  the  natives,  under  whose  wings  of  darkness, 
demon-worship,  kidnapping  and  cannibalism  are  as 
freely  practiced  as  more  civilized  crimes  in  the  safe 
shelter  of  a  lodge  of  Masons,  Odd-fellows,  or 
Knights  of  Pythias.  How  long  before  Christians  in 
America  will  be  as  wise  as  their  brethren  in  Africa 
and  refuse  to  fellowship  secretism  in  any  form  even 
when  disguised  in  the  holy  garments  of  temperance? 
How  long  before  temperance  workers  will  under 
stand  that  the  cause  of  God  and  the  cause  of  the 
dev-x  cannot  be  fought  with  the  same  weapons;  that 
in  taking  the  vows  of  secrec}*  they  are  actually  strik 
ing  hands  with  all  the  Masonic  saloon-keepers, 
brewers  and  distillers,  as  well  as  their  Masonic  allies 
in  our  courts  and  legislative  halls?  How  long  be 
fore  honest  workingmen  will  understand  that  when 
they  join  a  secret  trades  union  they  are  joined  as 
one  body  to  the  dark,  aristocratic,  monarchial,  anti- 
republican  institution  of  Freemasonry;  and  through 
it  with  the  Nihilist,  the  Socialist,  the  Ku  Klux — men 
whose  profession  it  is  to  stir  up  rebellion,  revolution, 
anarchy;  and  who  without  the  aid  of  liquor,  labor's 
greatest  enemy  and  curse,  could  not  achieve  half  the 
triumphs  they  have  in  the  past  or  will  in  the  future 
unless  God  in  his  mercy  opens  the  eyes  of  our  na 
tion  to  its  danger? 

There  can  be  but  one  answer  to  such  questions. 


162  Between  Two  Opinions. 

Society  will  never  frown  upon  any  evil  that  the 
church  tolerates.  Political  action  will  never  be 
taken  against  it  till  Christian  voters  and  Christian 
statesmen  demand  such  action.  When  Zion  puts  on 
her  beautiful  garments;  when  she  casts  out  of  her 
midst  with  scorn  and  loathing  every  thing  that 
would  defile  her  purity;  when  she  shows  herself 
"terrible  as  an  army  with  banners"  against  every 
form  of  sin  and  iniquity,  then  the  honest  temper 
ance  worker  and  the  hard-handed  son  of  labor  will 
no  longer  believe  a  lie;  and  evil  men  and  seducers 
will  have  a  foretaste  of  the  coming  terrors  of  that 
Judgment  Day  when  they  shall  say  to  the  rocks  and 
to  the  mountains,  "Fall  on  us  and  hide  us  from  the 
wrath  of  the  Lamb." 


CHAPTER 

THE    YOKE    OF   BONDAGE. 

The  yoke  of  fraternal  love  and  duty  fastened  so 
long  ago  on  Nelson's  boyish  shoulders  by  a  mother's 
dying  hand,  had  often  been  a  fetter  on  the  freedom 
of  his  personal  action — on  his  soul,  never.  But 
when  he  ignorantly  degraded  his  manhood  to  wear 
the  yoke  of  a  secret  labor  union,  he  found,  like  many 
another  honest  American  working  man,  that  he  had 
sold  his  birthright  of  liberty  for  a  mess  of  pottage. 
He  had  never  been  a  very  active  member,  but  had 
contented  himself  for  the  most  part  with  simply  pay 
ing  his  dues,  and  cherishing  the  comfortable  delu 
sion  that  he  was  thereby  helping  to  rear  up  a  break 
water  against  the  greed  and  tyranny  of  capital. 
Thus  he  was  as  ignorant  as  any  outsider  of  the  dark 
designs  hatched  in  its  secret  conclaves;  or  how,  lit 
tle  by  little,  through  the  operation  of  that  law  in 
lodger}*,  certain  as  any  law  in  mechanics,  (by  which 
the  unprincipled,  unscrupulous  element  as  surely 
rises  to  the  top  as  the  decent,  virtuous,  Christian 
element  sinks  to  the  bottom)  a  new  class  of  leaders 
developed  b}~  the  present  crisis  were  coming  to  the 
front,  whose  regard  for  the  laborer  was  like  that  of 
a  wolf  for  a  sheep 

Nelson  was  slowly  waking  up  to  the  consciousness 


164  Between    Two   Opinions. 

that  their  joke  was  hard  and  their  burden  anything 
but  light.  His  hope  of  a  speedy  marriage,  his  dream 
of  some  quiet  prairie  farm  where  his  life  and 
Martha's  should  glide  away  in  rural  peace,  the  dream 
which  had  so  often  come  to  him  in  the  heat  and 
grime  of  the  workshop  like  a  vision  of  cool  waters — 
all  this  he  must  put  far  away  into  the  indefinite 
future.  The  faster  Tom  regained  health  and 
strength  the  nearer  came  the  time  when  he  must 
take  up  his  old  burden  of  anxiety.  And  the  worst 
of  it  was  he  was  powerless.  He  could  say  some 
very  true  and  bitter  things  of  the  few  leaders  who, 
to  serve  their  own  selfish  ends,  were  willing  to  keep 
three  or  four  hundred  men  out  of  employment.  But 
he  must  bear  it,  though  the  cords  were  already  be 
ginning  to  cut  into  the  flesh. 

Nelson  Newhall  was  not  a  physical  or  moral 
coward  to  be  afraid  of  men  he  despised — -and  yet  he 
was  afraid.  We  bespeak  for  him  the  reader's  char 
ity,  however,  as  well  as  for  the  minister  whom  one 
or  two  Masons  or  Odd-fellows  in  his  congregation 
can  intimidate  so  effectually;  not  that  they  wield  as 
individuals  more  influence  than  others,  but  the  whole 
lodge  power  stands  behind  them — that  subtle,  mys 
terious,  Satanic  force  of  which  Revelation  is  full  of 
dim  hints;  that  backs  up  every  popular  iniquity; 
that  cannot  be  grasped,  or  measured,  or  analyzed; 
that  sways  politicians,  controls  legislatures,  gags  the 
pulpit,  persecutes  the  saints;  and  which  to  resist 
means  in  short  either  more  courage  or  more  faith  in 
God  than  most  men  possess. 


The  Yoke  of  Bondage.  165 

But  matters  were  coming  to  a  crisis.  The  dan 
gerous,  vicious  element  among  the  strikers  was  as 
wax  in  the  hands  of  the  leaders;  and  in  fact  Mr. 
Crerrish,  who  was  a  professional  labor  agitator,  had 
instigated  more  than  one  riot  and  directed  more 
than  one  assassination  while  engaged  in  that  congen 
ial  field  among  the  Molly  Maguires  of  the  coal  re 
gions. 

The  day  the  non-unionists  were  expected  to  arrive 
passed  off  quietly,  though  an  extra  force  of  police 
had  been  engaged  in  anticipation  of  trouble.  But 
the  following  night  the  watchman,  in  his  tour  of  in 
spection  through  the  works,  discovered  a  suspicious- 
looking  parcel,  which,  on  examination,  was  found  to 
be  an  infernal  machine  containing  enough  dynamite 
to  wreck  the  entire  building.  That  the  perpetrators 
of  the  act  designed  to  destroy  life  as  well  as  prop 
erty  there  could  be  no  doubt.  Jacksonville  was 
thrown  into  a  fever  of  excitement  over  the  diabolical 
attempt;  the  papers  chronicled  it  in  startling  head 
lines;  men  and  women  discussed  it  with  blanched 
faces;  and  those  astute  gentlemen,  the  detectives, 
hastened  to  the  spot,  made  an  examination  of  the 
premises,  looked  wise,  and  stated  to  the  satisfaction 
of  all  inquisitive  interviewers  that  they  had  found  a 
clue,  but  did  not  wish  at  present  to  give  further  in 
formation. 

Stephen  Rowland,  with  the  sturdy  }*eoman  blood 
in  his  veins  that  had  loved  justice  and  hated  tyranny 
since  the  day  it  wrested  Magna  Charta  from  an  un 
willing  king,  could  not  but  feel  a  keen  interest  in 


166  Between  Two  Opinions. 

the  struggle,  despite  his  horror  of  such  lawless 
methods  of  warfare  on  the  part  of  the  laborers. 

"What  a  pity,"  he  said  to  Mr.  Basset,  "that  work 
ing  men  can't  be  made  to  see  that  when  a  third  party 
with  interests  diametrically  opposite  to  either,  steps 
in  between  them  and  their  employers,  it  must  only 
lengthen  and  make  more  deadly  this  unnatural  strife 
between  labor  and  capital.  They  are  robbed  on 
three  sides — by  the  selfishness  of  rich  men,  the  am 
bition  of  designing  leaders,  and  the  grog-shop. 
Such  is  the  terrible  triumvirate  that  the  American 
laborer  has  to  face  to-day;  and  if  Christian  people 
cannot  force  something  like  Christian  action  on  our 
government  in  relation  to  these  evils,  we  must  ex 
pect  a  reign  of  socialism  sooner  or  later." 

"That's  so,"  returned  Mr.  Basset,  in  his  easy  way 
of  agreeing  or  seeming  to  agree  with  everybody  he 
happened  to  be  talking  with  that  Stephen  found  at 
times  secretly  exasperating.  He  had  begun  to  feel, 
without  exactly  knowing  why,  that  Mr.  Basset  was 
not  exactly  his  ideal  of  a  reformer. 

"The  grog-shop  is  the  worst  of  the  three,"  he  con 
tinued,  thoughtfully.  "The  passions  excited  by 
their  real  or  fancied  wrongs  it  sets  on  fire  of  hell. 
And  as  for  high  license  here  in  Jacksonville,  it  has 
worked  just  as  I  thought  it  would.  It  has  only  been 
a  temptation  to  evade  the  law  and  increase  the  num 
ber  of  unlicensed  saloons.  Still  there  is  nothing 
like  seeing  a  thing  tried  to  convince  people,  and  the 
women  are  certainly  doing  a  grand  work  in  pushing 
on  public  sentiment  in  this  matter." 


The  Yoke  of  Bondage.  167 

"Oh,  we  never  could  get  along  without  them — they 
are  so  earnest  and  devoted — always  to  the  front 
when  there's  any  good  work  going  on."  gallantly  re 
sponded  Mr.  Basset.  For  though  that  gentleman 
had  never  actually  given  them  a  cent's  worth  of  real 
aid,  he  was  after  all  not  very  different  from  many 
politicians,  noted  and  unnoted,  to  whom,  if  flattering 
words  and  promises  could  be  made  to  take  the  place 
of  down-right  honest  help,  the  women  of  the  W.  C. 
T.  U.  ought  to  be  everlastingly  grateful. 

A  few  fanatics  like  Martin  Treworthy  had  the 
hardihood  to  suggest  that  the  package  with  its  terri 
ble  contents  was  never  placed  there  by  the  prime 
movers  of  the  plot,  but  by  men  whose  secret  lodge 
oath  of  unquestioning  obedience  made  them  fit  tools 
in  the  han^s  of  communistic  leaders  to  do  their  un 
pleasant  or  dangerous  work;  and  unless  the  secret 
societies  which  hatched  such  conspiracies  were  sup 
pressed,  and  that  speedily,  by  the  stern  hand  of  law, 
dynamite  outrages  would  become  as  frequent  in 
America  as  in  Europe. 

"I've  put  in  considerable  money  into  the  Union," 
said  Nelson,  "but  I  never  put  in  a  cent  to  buy 
dynamite  with,  or  to  clothe  in  soft  raiment  men  lazy 
and  unprincipled  enough  to  want  to  live  off  the  earn 
ings  of  honest  labor.  It  is  time  this  thing  was 
stopped.  We  are  forfeiting  what  the  laborer  can 
least  afford  to  lose — all  public  sympathy  and  re 
spect.  But  we  can't  handle  communists  in  America 
just  as  Bismarck  handles  them  in  G-ermany." 

"Masonic  Congressmen  can't  anyway,"  retorted 


168  Between  Two  Opinions. 

Martin,  dryly.  "It  would  be  too  much  like  passing 
sentence  of  hanging  on  a  family  relation.  Look  at 
the  way  they've  done  in  Utah — how  they've  let  this 
foul  thing,  polygamy,  spread  and  spread,  and  why? 
Because  the  only  way  to  stop  polygamous  marriages 
is  to  suppress  the  secret  oaths  of  the  Endowment 
House,  and  Congress  would  no  more  put  its  hand  to 
a  bill  to  do  that  than  it  would  take  a  poker  by  the 
hot  end.  Your  average  politician  hates  to  burn  his 
fingers.  And*  it  is  with  dynamiters  exactly  as  it  is 
with  Mormons,  they  don't  dare  to  lay  the  axe  at  the 
root  of  the  tree.  Touch  one  secret  order  and  the 
whole  Masonic  Grand  Lodge  would  come  tumbling 
down  about  their  ears  like  the  temple  of  Dagon  on 
the  Philistine  lords — and  they  know  it." 

"But  there  is  this  terrible  grog-shop  question  to 
be  settled  first,"  said  Nelson.  "I  hold  to  taking  one 
thing  at  a  time." 

"Just  what  the  Anti-masons  said  in  1835  when 
the  slavery  question  came  up.  And  so  they  stopped 
fighting  the  lodge  to  fight  slavery.  And  what  was 
the  result?  The  lodge  sneaked  South  in  the  Mor 
gan  uprising,  laid  the  egg  of  treason  and  brooded  it 
thirty  years  till  in  '61  the  full-grown  viper  crawled 
out  to  plant  its  fangs  in  the  nation's  heart.  And  all 
the  while  slavery  kept  growing  more  powerful,  get 
ting  a  stronger  hold  on  the  government,  and  all  the 
business  interests  of  the  country,  till  it  was  strong 
enough  for  rebellion.  Masonry  stood  behind  it  just 
as  it  stands  behind  the  saloon  now,  getting  up  secret 
temperance  orders  to  do  the  bidding  of  the  Masonic 


The  Yoke  of  Bondage.  169 

Grand  Lodge — the  very  bulwark  of  the  dram-shop. 
Dispose  of  this  question  and  let  some  other  one 
come  up,  and  it  will  skulk  behind  that — and  so  on; 
and  the  end  of  it  all  would  take  a  wiser  man  than  I 
am  to  foresee." 

To  this  speech,  delivered  with  Martin  Tre worthy's 
usual  vigor  of  utterance,  Nelson  could  think  of  no 
better  answering  argument  than  this: 

"Anyway,  the  saloon  in  its  immediate  effects  is 
worse  than  the  lodge.  I've  suffered  enough  from  the 
rum  curse  to  be  sure  of  that  Of  course  I  don't 
know  anything  about  slavery,  but  I  should  say  it 
was  a  rather  worse  evil  than  Masonry." 

Martin  Treworthy  stopped  in  his  walk  up  and 
down  the  room. 

"Don't  you  suppose  /  know  what  slavery  is? 
Look  there." 

He  tore  off  his  jacket,  and  disclosed  his  bare 
shoulders,  ridged  and  seamed  with  terrible  scars. 

Nelson  stood  aghast  at  the  sight. 

'•Why,  Mr.  Treworthy,  what  does  that  mean?" 

Martin  smiled  grimly. 

"It  only  means  that  when  you  was  a  little  shaver 
not  out  of  long  clothes,  I  was  finding  out  what  slav 
ery  was.  Those  are  the  marks  of  a  whipping  that  I 
took  at  the  hands  of  slave  hunters  thirty  years  ago 
for  refusing  to  tell  them  the  hiding-place  of  a  fugi 
tive;  and  why  the  ruffians  didn't  finish  off  with  a 
bullet  through  my  brains  I  never  could  tell,  unless 
they  thought  it  unlikely  I  should  ever  come  to  after 
such  usage." 


170  Between   Two   Opinions. 

"Terrible,"  said  Nelson.  "You  suffered  all  this  to 
give  liberty  to  a  fellow-being,  and  yet  this  is  the  first 
I  ever  knew  of  it.  You  are  a  strange  man,  Mr.  Tre- 
worthy." 

"I  have  had  no  call  to  tell  of  it  before,"  said  Mar 
tin,  coolly,  "though  every  single  one  of  these  scars 
I  am  prouder  of  than  I  should  be  of  the  stars  of  a 
Major  General.  I  only  want  you  to  know  that  I 
have  made  about  as  intimate  acquaintance  with  the 
devil  of  slavery  as  you  have  with  the  devil  of  the 
whisky  jug,  and  for  my  part  I  would  rather  have 
fetters  on  my  body  than  on  my  soul." 

A  momentary  silence  fell  between  them,  and  then 
Nelson  said  with  a  sigh, — 

"I  really  believe  if  it  weren't  for  Tom  1  would  go 
away  from  here.  Even  hiring  out  on  a  farm  would 
be  better.  I  could  at  least  sell  my  labor  at  my  own 
price  without  anybody's  else  dictation." 

And  at  that  Martin  was  wise  enough  to  be  satis 
fied  with  the  adyantage  gained,  and  held  his  peace. 
*###*##•#•*# 

Meanwhile  the  sagacious  detectives  before  men 
tioned  had  unriddled  their  clue — a  piece  of  paper 
with  some  writing  on  it  dropped  near  the  place 
where  the  dynamite  had  been  deposited,  along  with 
other  bits  of  circumstantial  evidence  needless  to  par 
ticularize  here;  and  in  their  Solomon-like  wisdom 
were  not  simply  suspicious  but  absolutely  certain 
that  Nelson  Newhall  was  the  real  perpetrator  of  the 
attempted  outrage. 


CHAPTER 

IN  WHICH    CERTAIN    CHARACTERS    IX    THE    STORY  GET 
"MORE    LIGHT." 

Nelson's  arrest  caused  much  excitement  in  Mrs. 
McGowan's  quiet  boarding  house,  and  fell  on  Martha 
like  a  thunderbolt  But  if  she  was  not  exactly  a 
heroine,  she  had  the  stuff  in  her  of  which  heroines 
are  made,  and  she  neither  wept  nor  fainted  when 
Martin  Treworthy  told  her  the  news,  but  exclaimed 
indignantly: 

"It  is  all  a  wicked  plot.  His  opposition  to  the 
strike  has  made  him  enemies  among  the  workmen, 
and  they  have  laid  this  scheme  to  revenge  them 
selves  on  him,  and  turn  off  suspicion  from  the  real 
criminal." 

"But,  you  see  Nelson  has  been  fool  enough  to 
join  a  secret  clan,  and  from  tJieir  point  of  view  the 
wretches,  who  actually  put  the  dynamite  in  the  build 
ing  and  perilled  scores  of  lives,  were  guilty  of  noth 
ing  worse  than  'imprudence'  and  have  got  to  be 
'shielded  from  the  consequences'  some  way  or  other. 
Nelson  has  incurred  their  hate  by  opposing  the 
strike  and  opposing  the  leaders,  and  he  can  fill  up 
the  gap  as  well  as  any  other  innocent  man;  under 
the  circumstances  maybe  a  little  better." 

"Oh,  can  it  be  that  God  will  let  Nelson  suffer  un- 


172  Between  Two   Opinions. 

der  such  a  wicked  accusation — so  absurdly  false  on 
its  very  face!"  burst  out  Martha.  Whereat  Martin 
Treworthy  cut  short  his  growling,  and  essayed  to 
comfort  her  with  that  kind  of  advice  which,  however 
trite  and  commonplace  it  may  seem,  has  comforted 
people  in  trouble  in  all  ages. 

"Keep  fast  hold  on  your  trust  in  God.  Don't  let 
that  slip.  Anchor  your  heart  right  on  to  his  prom 
ise,  'He  shall  bring  forth  thy  righteousness  like  the 
light,  and  thy  judgment  like  the  noonday.'  That  is 
the  best  way  to  do  now.  It  is  all  coming  out  right. 
Why,  bless  you,  there  ain't  anybody  believes  him 
guilty.  The  only  witness  against  him  whose  testi 
mony  amounts  to  anything  is  a  worthless  fellow 
who  would  sell  his  soul  for  a  drink  of  whisky.  That 
young  Howland  says  there  ain't  a  jury  in  the  land 
would  indict  him  on  such  evidence.  He'll  come  out 
all  clear  from  this — but — "Martin  Treworthy  spoke 
the  last  words  in  the  slow  way  in  which  he  always 
uttered  his  strange  half-prophecies  that  were  the 
more  impressive  from  the  fact  of  their  being  so 
often  couched  in  Scriptural  language — "the  end  is 
not  yet." 

To  Martha  they  sounded  like  the  echo  of  her  own 
unvoiced  forebodings,  and  struck  a  chill  to  her  very 
heart.  But  she  asked  no  questions. 

Stephen  Howland  had  felt  more  than  a  passing  in 
terest  in  the  young  workman  who  had  been  his  first 
client  in  Jacksonville,  and  undertook  his  defence 
with  much  ardor  as  a  case  even  better  suited  to  his 
chivalrous  temper  than  prosecuting  rumsellers. 


More  Light.  173 

The  torn  fragment  of  paper  found  where  the 
dynamite  was  deposited  was  a  part  of  a  letter  with 
Nelson's  name  attached;  but  Stephen's  quick,  judic 
ial  sense  saw  at  once  that  all  this  "circumstantial 
evidence"  if  it  proved  anything  proved  too  much,  as 
the  real  criminal  would  in  all  probability  have  cov 
ered  up  his  tracks  better;  while  under  his  sharp 
cross  examination  the  miserable  fellow  who  had 
been  hired  to  perjure  himself  became  involved  in 
hopeless  contradictions,  and  finally  broke  down  at  a 
point  where  he  testified  to  having  recognized  Nelson 
on  a  certain  occasion,  the  hour  being  late  in  the 
evening,  by  the  light  of  the  moon;  a  statement  which 
the  almanac  failed  to  verify,  as  Stephen,  after  due 
examination  of  that  important  authority,  quietly  in 
formed  the  jury. 

Nothing  now  remained  but  to  sum  up  in  one  brief 
and  powerful  argument  all  the  facts  in  the  case, 
which  proved  a  conspiracy  to  criminate  his  client  on 
the  part  of  some  members  of  the  Union  who  were 
dissatisfied  with  his  course  in  relation  to  the  strike. 
The  evidence  was  so  overwhelming  that  Nelson  was 
triumphantly  cleared  of  the  charge  without  the 
jury  leaving  their  seats. 

In  the  course  of  his  speech  Stephen  incidentally 
remarked,  "I  believe  fully  in  the  right  of  laboring 
men  to  organize  for  their  own  better  protection,  but 
when  these  secret  organizations  become  engines  of 
intimidation  and  terrorism,  and  fetter  personal  lib 
erty,  they  are  a  nuisance  to  the  world  and  the  great 
est  possible  curse  to  labor;"  and  in  doing  so  he 


174  Between    Two   Opinions. 

merely  expressed  an  opinion  which  he  supposed 
would  be  shared  as  a  matter  of  course  by  every  good, 
intelligent  citizen.  In  his  own  mind  it  really  seemed 
like  a  very  innocent  and  well-turned  sentence,  and 
decidedly  apropos  to  the  defence,  but  Mr.  Basset, 
who  had  dropped  in  to  hear  the  proceedings  of  the 
court,  as  soon  as  it  was  over  made  him  aware  of  his 
mistake. 

"It  won't  do  now  to  condemn  the  secret  trades 
unions  for  the  rash  acts  of  a  few.  It  will  be  likely 
to  hurt  your  practice  if  you  say  such  things.  So 
many  Masons  and  Odd-fellows  belong  to  these  socie 
ties  that  there's  a  kind  of  connection,  you  see.  And 
besides  you  are  likely,  unaware,  to  hurt  the  feelings 
of  a  brother,  and  so  go  contrary  to  that  rule  of  char 
ity  which  is  such  a  fundamental  principle  with  all 
true  Odd-fellows." 

It  did  not  occur  to  Stephen  that  if  he  fully  car 
ried  out  this  rule  and  never  said  or  did  anything 
that  could  by  any  possibility  hurt  the  feelings  of 
Masons  or  Odd-fellows,  it  would  effectually  prevent 
him  from  making  another  speech  against  the  saloon 
business  as  long  as  he  lived.  But  Mr.  Basset's 
glorification  of  his  favorite  order  upon  all  possible 
occasions  had  begun  to  slightly  pall  upon  his  taste, 
and  it  did  strike  him  as  an  unpleasant  idea  that 
there  should  be  any  link  between  him  and  dynamit 
ers — which  he  was  on  the  point  of  dryly  observing 
when  he  saw  Martin  Treworthy  a  little  distance  off, 
his  rugged  features  in  a  glow  of  delight,  and  turned 
away  rather  abruptly  to  shake  hands  with  him. 


More  Light.  175 

The  old  soldier  with  his  odd  mingling  of  various 
and  seemingly  opposite  characters,  who  had  fought 
and  suffered  for  the  cause  of  human  liberty,  in  those 
days  already  as  much  a  part  of  history  to  the  gener 
ation  to  which  Stephen  belonged  as  Bunker  Hill  or 
Valley  Forge,  had  made  a  strong  impression  upon 
his  fancy  on  the  occasion  of  the  former  trial,  and  he 
was  glad  of  this  opportunity  to  renew  his  acquaint 
ance.  But  the  greeting  he  received  from  the  old 
border  hero  was  decidedly  more  confusing  than  Mr. 
Basset's. 

"That  was  good — the  way  you  come  down  on 
these  unions.  God  bless  you,  and  give  you  the 
chance  to  hit  the  whole  brood  of  secret  orders  a  good 
many  such  raps." 

Poor  Stephen  felt  himself  in  an  awkward  dilem 
ma,  but  the  Howland  honesty  came  to  his  rescue, 
and  he  said,  while  the  blood  rushed  uncomfortably 
to  his  face,  "I  fear  you  misunderstood  me,  Mr.  Tre- 
worthy.  M}r  remark  was  not  intended  to  condemn 
all  secret  societies,  or  even  the  trades  unions  further 
than  their  tyrannical  abuse  of  power.  I  am  an  Odd 
fellow,"  he  added  hesitatingly,  "but  I  trust  I  am  a 
good  citizen  for  all  that.  I  no  more  believe  in  any 
society  which  tries  the  dynamite  argument,  or  re 
stricts  personal  liberty,  than  I  do  in  rum-selling,  and 
should  feel  that  it  was  just  as  much  my  duty  to 
fight  it." 

This  was  decidedly  an  opening  for  Martin  Tre- 
worthy,  who  had  enough  of  the  wisdom  of  the  ser 
pent  not  to  speak  his  real  chagrin  at  the  unexpected 


176  Between  Two   Opinions. 

revelation.  He  only  muttered,  "I  might  have  known 
they  would  rope  you  in,  my  fine  fellow;"  and  then, 
taking  advantage  of  the  unsuspecting  Stephen,  said: 

"Well,  you  have  fought  the  saloons  like  a  young 
Jephthah,  as  though  you'd  been  regularly  raised  to 
the  business,  but  somehow  we  hain't  got  rid  of  the 
Ammonites  yet." 

"The  fact  is,  Mr.  Treworthy,  saloon-keepers  are 
the  very  hardest  kind  of  fish  to  catch.  In  the  first 
place  all  kinds  of  obstacles  are  thrown  in  the  way  of 
procuring  evidence,  and  when  evidence  is  obtained 
there  is  the  difficulty  of  convicting.  The  jury  fail 
to  agree,  or  there  is  a  loophole  in  the  statute  book. 
It  is  really  discouraging." 

"Well,  I  remember  going  on  a  hunt  once  after 
mail  robbers,"  said  Martin,  in  the  slow,  ruminative 
fashion  in  which  he  used  to  begin  his  stories  of  bor 
der  experience.  "They  belonged  to  a  gang  that  had 
kept  the  whole  country  in  terror  for  years.  They'd 
ride  into  a  town  with  their  revolvers  cocked  right  in 
open  day,  and  take  whatever  they  wanted.  Some 
times,  out  of  sheer  cussedness,  they  would  amuse 
themselves  by  picking  a  quarrel  with  some  poor  fel 
low  in  one  of  the  stores  or  restaurants  shoot  him 
dead,  and  then  ride  off  without  anybody's  daring  to 
move  a  finger  to  stop  'em  no  more'n  as  if  they  had 
the  numb  palsy." 

"That  was  a  pretty  state  of  aflairs,"  commented 
Stephen,  whose  Eastern  ideas  were  much  shocked. 
"I  hope  you  caught  the  villains  and  hung  them  to 
the  nearest  tree." 


More  Light.  177 

"We  rode  miles  and  miles  through  the  brush 
wood,"  continued  Martin,  "and  at  last  we  sighted 
the  rascals — were,  in  fact,  nearly  within  pistol  range, 
when  I  seen  one  of  the  fellows  raise  himself  in  his 
saddle,  fling  up  his  arms  and  then  let  them  drop 
down  to  his  side.  And  after  that  'there  was  no 
more  luck  about  the  house'  as  the  old  song  says.  It 
was  really  queer  what  accidents  happened  to  put  us 
back,  till  finally  we  lost  the  trail  altogether.  I 
didn't  understand  the  matter  as  I  did  afterwards. 
The  fellow  give  the  Masonic  sign  of  distress;  the 
leader  of  our  party  was  a  Mason  himself,  and 
worked  it  so  as  not  to  have  them  captured." 

Stephen  felt  us  if  a  calcium  light  had  been  flashed 
on  sundry  puzzling  points  encountered  in  his  legal 
practice,  but  its  chief  effect  just  then  was  to  give 
him  a  sense  of  discomfort  like  the  light  let  too  sud 
denly  in  on  eyes  that  have  been  long  bandaged.  So 
he  only  said,  "Aha,"  while  Martin  wound  up  with  a 
moral  to  his  tale  as  follows: 

"They  say  sauce  that  is  good  for  the  goose  is  good 
for  the  gander,  and  if  secret  signs  and  grips  are 
good  for  thieves  and  murderers,  they  are  good  for 
rumsellers;  and  if  they  are  good  for  that  kind  of 
gentry  they  are  good  for  dynamiters.  Better  stick 
a  pin  in  there.  It  may  come  handy  to  refer  to  next 
time  you  have  a  liquor  case  to  try." 

And  Martin  Treworthy,  with  a  curious  smile  on 
his  face,  strode  awa}T,  and  left  the  }*oung  attorney  to 
recover  as  well  as  he  could  from  the  effects  of  "more 
light"  than  had  been  flashed  upon  his  understanding 


178  Between  Two   Opinions. 

by  any  degree  of  Odd-fellowship  which  he  had  yet 
taken. 

The  Union  denied  emphatically  any  knowledge  of 
or  sympathy  with  the  dynamite  plot,  and  there  were 
plenty  of  unthinking,  good  people  who  never  stopped 
to  consider  that  though  this  might  be  true  of  the 
brotherhood  as  a  bod}r,  there  could  easily  be  a  wheel 
within  a  wheel — a  lodge  of  dynamiters  inside  of  a 
seemingly  innocent  trades  union,  bound  together  by 
the  same  secret  covenant  to  shield  -'imprudent" 
members. 

The  scheme  of  blowing  up  the  works  and  then  fas 
tening  the  guilt  on  Nelson  had  been  planned  by  Mr. 
G-errish  as  a  fine  piece  of  double  revenge:  first  on 
manufacturers  who  had  failed  to  appreciate  his  office 
and  titles  as  he  deemed  they  deserved;  and  secondly 
on  the  young  workman,  who  from  first  to  last  as  a 
recognized  leader  of  the  better  element  among  the 
operatives  was  regarded  by  him  much  as  Haman  re 
garded  Mordecai.  The  task  of  seeing  it  carried  out 
by  trusty  underlings  into  whom  he  had  talked  his 
own  atheistic  and  communistic  ideas  he  handed  over 
to  Reynolds,  according  to  his  usual  plan  of  furnish 
ing  the  brains,  and  letting  some  obsequious  tool  do 
the  labor.  He  had  not  counted  on  the  egregious 
failure  of  both  schemes,  and  when  his  subordinate 
held  another  secret  conference  with  the  chief,  he 
found  him  in  anything  but  an  amiable  mood.  He 
stormed  and  swore  at  his  unfortunate  aid-de-camp, 
and  told  him  that  "he  had  managed  the  job  like  a 
."  The  concluding  noun  and  adjective  we 


More  Light.  179 

forbear  to  give,  though  really  very  just  and  applic 
able  to  their  subject  It  had  the  effect,  however,  of 
making  Reynold's  eye  flash  and  his  countenance  red 
den,  as  if  there  was  some  limit  to  his  endurance. 

"That  ain't  hardly  safe  talk,  let  me  tell  you,  to  a 
man  that  could  have  you  arrested  by  dropping  a  lit 
tle  hint  to  the  police." 

Gerrish  did  not,  as  might  have  been  expected, 
break  out  into  oaths  and  curses  at  this  threat.  He 
only  smiled — that  tigerish  smile  before  which  Rey 
nolds,  with  all  his  superior  bulk,  shrank  as  it  is  said 
even  lions  will  shrink  before  the  hyena;  and  with  an 
almost  imperceptible  motion  of  his  hand  towards 
the  glittering  dirk  concealed  in  his  bosom,  he  hissed 
slowly  between  his  teeth: 

"Remember  tJie  penalty  of  a  traitor." 

The  two  glared  at  each  other  for  a  second,  and 
then  Re}*nolds  said  with  an  uneasy  laugh: 

"Come,  what  is  the  use  of  all  this?     I  think  we 

had  better  attend  to  business." 

• 

"So  do  I,"  was  the  laconic  response  of  his  chief. 
And  the  worthy  pair  who  had  quarrelled  before,  and 
knew  that  in  all  probability  they  would  again,  made 
up  after  the  fashion  of  their  peculiar  species — that 
is  to  say,  they  smoked  a  couple  of  cigars  together, 
and  indulged  in  considerable  profanity  while  they 
discussed  the  general  situation  of  affairs.  There 
was  no  ignoring  the  fact  that  the  strike  was  every 
day  growing  more  unpopular,  and  as  their  power 
over  the  workmen  must  be  in  some  way  retained, 
they  came  to  the  united  conclusion  that  to  appear  in 


180  Between    Two    Opinions. 

the  role  of  peacemakers,  bound  to  have  a  pacific  set 
tlement  of  the  difficulties,  would  be  decidedly  more 
for  their  interest  than  to  keep  up  the  agitation.  But 
when  the  tiger  is  once  unchained  it  is  not  always  an 
easy  matter  to  get  him  back  into  his  den — a  fact  on 
which  Grerrish  and  Reynolds  failed  to  count. 

Comparative  quiet,  however,  had  reigned  since  the 
discovery  of  the  dynamite  plot,  owing  to  the  refusal 
of  the  frightened  "scabs,"  as  the  strikers  called 
those  who  had  taken  their  places,  to  go  back  to  work 
until  there  had  been  a  thorough  examination  of  all 
the  premises.  But  under  the  calm  were  strange 
elements  of  fierceness  and  fury.  It  was  the  omin 
ous  quiet  that  precedes  the  cyclone. 

Nelson  was  popular  with  the  best  class  of  the 
workmen.  They  greeted  him  with  cheers  as  he 
came  out  of  the  court-room,  and  altogether  he  was 
considerably  more  of  a  hero  after  his  unpleasant  ex 
perience  than  he  had  been  before.  The  sight  of 
their  honest  faces,  and  the  real  joy  which  they 
showed  at  his  release,  touched  him. 

"How  I  wish  I  could  get  all  the  workmen  together 
and  talk  a  little  common-sense  into  them.  I  think  I 
could,"  he  said  to  Martin  Tre worthy,  who  had  ac 
companied  him  to  his  lodgings  for  a  little  conversa 
tion  over  the  day's  events. 

Martin  only  gave  a  low  grunt,  which,  if  it  ex 
pressed  anything,  expressed  skepticism.  And  Nel 
son  so  understood  it,  for  he  continued  eagerly: 

"They  are  under  bad  leaders,  and  they  don't  know 
it.  Even  that  faction  among  the  workmen  who  have 


More  Light.  181 

a  grudge  against  me  I  do  not  feel  like  greatly  blam 
ing.  They  are  so  ignorant,  and  the}'  have  real 
wrongs.  These  men  who  claim  to  represent  them, 
;md  don't  represent  them  no  more  than  wolves  rep 
resent  a  flock  of  sheep,  hold  them  in  a  state  of  the 
most  complete  vassalage.  This  strike  has  opened 
my  eyes  to  a  good  many  things,  and  one  is  that 
some  new  form  of  organization  on  a  free,  open  dem 
ocratic  basis  would  be  a  great  deal  better  for  work 
ing  men  than  these  secret  labor  unions  which  afford 
such  dangerous  facilities  of  leadership  for  mere 
adventurers  and  deadbeats  and  blacklegs.  I  have 
been  a  fool,  Mr.  Tre worthy.  I  dare  say  you  enjoy 
the  confession." 

"Mightily,"  chuckled  Martin  '-I  knew  you'd  cut 
your  wisdom  teeth  after  a  while.  But  we  ain't 
through  with  trouble  yet.  The}*  are  going  to  try 
starting  up  the  works  again  to-morrow.  The  men 
have  got  pretty  much  over  their  scare  now  and  can't 
afford  to  loaf  round,  but  as  the  strikers  can't  play 
the  dynamite  game  over  twice,  a  riot  will  most  likely 
be  the  next  thing  in  order.  Last  night  I  happened 
to  be  going  past  when  one  of  them  Socialist  fellows 
was  holding  forth,  and  I  thought  I  would  just  turn 
to  and  listen  a  while.  The  chap  stole  a  sight  of  his 
talk  from  Ingersoll,  and  forgot  to  put  in  his  quota 
tion  marks  every  time.  And  he  could  quote  the 
Bible,  too — told  them  it  would  only  be  'spoiling  the 
Egyptians'  as  the  Israelites  did,  if  the}'  should  rase 
to  their  foundations  a  few  of  the  fine  houses  of  the 
rich,  and  take  all  they  could  lay  their  hands  on. 


182  Between  Two   Opinions. 

The  rabble  he  was  talking  to  cheered  like  mad  when 
he  said  that.  They  were  just  primed  for  a  riot." 

"A  good  part  of  the  crowd  that  gather  to  hear 
such  talk,"  said  Nelson,  "is  supplied  from  a  class 
outside  of  the  workmen.  The  increasing  number  of 
no-license  towns  -has  brought  into  Jacksonville  more 
of  the  saloon  element  than  ever  before.  There  are 
always  plenty  of  that  kind  of  fish  round  where  there 
is  any  labor  disturbance.  These  Socialist  chaps  can 
swill  down  beer  by  the  hogshead,  and  bluster  and 
rant;  but  that  is  about  all  they  can  do.  Their  bark 
is  terrific,  but  their  bite  is  of  small  account.  It  is 
these  liquor  saloons,  these  underground  doggeries  at 
every  street  corner  that  are  going  to  play  the  mis 
chief.  I  believe  that  without  their  inspiration 
Socialism,  at  least  here  in  America,  would  be  as 
harmless  as  a  viper  with  its  head  cut  off.  But 
we've  dethroned  King  Cotton  and  put  up  King 
Whisky,  and  the  end  will  be — nobody  knows  what. 
Take  foreigners,  now,  like  many  of  the  workmen  here 
in  Jacksonville,  ignorant  of  the  first  principle  of 
free  government,  self-government;  take  our  rich 
capitalists,  caring  for  nothing  but  to  get  rich  faster; 
take  these  Socialist  firebrands,  and  then  add  the 
liquor  element,  and  we  certainly  have  the  material 
for  riots,  dynamite  explosions,  or  everything  else  of 
a  lawless  nature." 

And,  as  it  happened,  Nelson  was  just  then,  like 
all  of  us  at  times,  more  of  a  prophet  than  he 
thought. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

IN    WHICH    JACKSONVILLE     REAPS     THE     WHIRLWIND. 

Matthew  Densler,  the  chief  proprietor  of  the 
works,  had  begun  life  himself  as  a  commoc  opera 
tive,  had  amassed  his  large  fortune  by  a  combina 
tion  of  shrewdness  and  diligence,  and  had  also  de 
veloped  in  his  early  struggles  with  adversity  a  tem 
per  as  unbending  as  his  own  iron  and  steel.  He  had 
no  unkindly  feeling  towards  the  class  from  which  he 
had  risen,  but  he  made  very  little  allowance  for  their 
peculiar  weaknesses;  in  fact,  he  was  rather  inclined 
to  look  with  a  slight  contempt  on  the  laboring  man 
who  had  not  been  able  to  do  as  svell  as  he  had  him 
self.  Trade  unions  he  hated  above  everything  else 
on  the  face  of  the  earth,  and  all  his  stubborn  powers 
of  resistance  were  brought  into  play  by  the  present 
crisis. 

He  made  a  point  of  visiting  the  works  himself  in 
person,  and  thus  trying  to  infuse  something  of  his 
own  feeling  into  the  new  hands,  who  were  in  truth  a 
rather  cowed  looking  set.  To  have  to  be  escorted 
back  and  forth  from  their  work  by  policemen,  and 
be  subjected  to  a  course  of  terrorizing  and  intimida 
tion  harder  to  bear  than  open  violence,  were  not 
things  especially  inspiriting,  and  the  majority  heart 
ily  wished  themselves  back  where  they  came  from. 


184  Between    Two   Opinions. 

The  day  passed  quietly,  but  groups  of  strikers  had 
been  slowly  gathering  on  the  street,  and  when  the 
non-unionists  left  off  work  at  night,  they  had  to  pass 
through  a  gauntlet  of  foes,  yelling,  shouting  all  man 
ner  of  derisive  epithets,  and  armed  with  stones  and 
clubs — a  few  with  concealed  knives. 

But  at  the  very  commencement  of  the  melee,  a  tall 
figure  in  a  workingman's  garb  stepped  forth  from 
one  of  those  groups,  and  mounting  on  an  empty  bar-  ' 
rel  called  out  in  a  clear  commanding  voice,  which 
for  an  instant  silenced  the  rioters. 

"Fellow  workmen,  I  want  to  speak  to  you." 

It  was  Nelson  Newhall. 

His  audacious  movement  had  taken  the  mob  com 
pletely  by  surprise.  A  man  thoroughly  in  earnest 
alwa}Ts  possesses  a  strange  magnetic  power  over 
others,  and  in  that  instant  of  astonished,  startled 
silence,  both  the  attacked  and  the  attacking  parties 
waited,  curious  to  hear  what  would  come  next. 

"I  want  to  talk  to  you  for  five  minutes  as  one  in 
telligent  working  man  may  talk  to  another.  Is  it 
any  worse  for  the  capitalist  to  oppress  and  ill-treat 
you  than  for  you  to  oppress  and  ill-treat  your  bro 
ther  workmen?  B}'  what  right  do  you  forbid  them 
to  earn  their  daily  bread?  Is  it  the  right  of  the 
strongest?  That  is  the  right  the  capitalist  pleads. 
How  long  will  you  handle  this  two-edged  sword? 
How  long  will  you  imagine  that  one  wrong  can  right 
another?  that  riots  and  strikes  and  unlawful  violence 
will  ever  alter  cause  and  effect,  or  change  your  con 
dition  one  iota  except  for  the  worse? 


Reaping  the    Whirlwind.  185 

"But  now  I  want  to  talk  to  you  about  the  chief 
cause  of  all  this  trouble.  Run  it  right  down  to  the 
roots.  What  causes  strikes?  Low  wages.  And 
what  causes  low  wages?  Dull  times.  And  what 
causes  dull  times?  I  will  tell  you  in  a  few  words. 
You  pay  away  your  money  for  beer  and  tobacco  in 
stead  of  bread.  You  go  to  the  saloon,  order  a  drink, 
and  pay  your  dime  over  the  counter.  One  dime 
paid  over  the  counter  of  the  two  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  dramshops,  licensed  and  unlicensed,  in 
these  United  States  amounts  to  twenty-five  thousand 
dollars  in  one  day.  In  a  year  it  would  amount  to 
over  a  million  and  a  half.  This  is  only  the  price  of 
one  drink  daily,  remember.  Multiply  this  by  the 
actual  number  of  drinks  sold  and  the  sum  goes  into 
the  hundred  millions.  Supposing  these  hundred 
millions  went  to  buy  the  things  the  world  needs  and 
wants,  would  anybody  lack  employment?  How 
quick  every  iron  and  cotton  and  woolen  mill  would 
start  up  all  over  the  country.  Now  when  times  are 
dull,  there  are  alwa}~s  fools  enough  to  say,  'It  is  all 
owing  to  over-production,'  when  the  fact  is  there 
can't  be  too  much  to  eat  or  to  wear,  or  too  much  of 
anything,  in  short,  which  goes  to  make  human 
beings  happier  or  more  comfortable.  It  is  all  owing 
to  under-consumption.  People  get  along  without 
things  they  want,  or  with  less  of  them,  because,  to 
put  it  in  plain  words,  these  two  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  dramshops  have  taken  the  money.  I  don't 
deny  that  in  our  land  to-day  there  are  men  who  have 
made  big  fortunes  by  grinding  the  faces  of  the 


186  Between    Two   Opinions. 

poor."  Cries  of  "That's  so,"  greeted  Nelson  at  this 
juncture,  and  a  voice,  thickened  by  heavy  potations 
of  beer  or  something  stronger,  shouted  out  savagety, 
"String  the  rascals  up  to  the  lamp-posts."  The 
young  workman  was  dealing  with  turbulent  material, 
but  he  took  no  notice  of  these  interruptions  except 
to  calmly  continue. 

"While  you  are  cursing  capitalists,  just  remember 
that  the  liquor  dealers  and  distillers  whom  3rou  sup 
port  by  your  money  and  your  votes  are  capitalists 
too,  and  the  amount  of  their  united  capital  is  over 
one  billion  of  dollars.  Now  this  vast  sum  invested 
in  honest  manufactures  would  give  work  at  good 
wages  to  every  laboring  man  in  the  United  States. 
These  are  hard  facts,  but  you  won't  hear  them  from 
politicians  dependent  on  the  rum  vote,  and  you 
won't  hear  them  from  men  who  counsel  murder  and 
arson  and  pillage  as  a  remedy  for  the  wrongs  of 
labor.  Suppose  the  late  plot  to  blow  up  the  source 
of  our  daily  bread  here  in  Jacksonville  had  suc 
ceeded,  would  you  have  been  any  better  off  to-day? 
The  fact  is,  we  working  men  don't  know  where  our 
real  power  lies.  With  one  stamp  of  our  feet  we 
could  put  down  this  miserable  dramshop  business 
that  has  more  to  do  with  low  wages  and  dull  times 
than  all  other  causes  combined.  By  a  system  of  in 
telligent  co-operation  we  could  make  every  monopo 
list  shake  in  his  shoes  from  Maine  to  California. 
By  voting  in  our  own  interests  instead  of  the  inter 
ests  of  whisky  politicians,  we  could  make  our  hand 
felt  where  it  needs  to  be  felt — on  the  wheels  of  gov- 


Reaping  the    Whirlwind.  187 

ernment.  Instead  of  sending  millionaires  to  Con 
gress,  whose  first  thought  will  be  when  this  or  that 
measure  comes  up  for  consideration,  'How  is  it 
going  to  affect  my  stocks  or  my  bonds?'  we  could 
send  men  from  our  own  ranks  whose  first  thought 
will  be,  'How  is  it  going  to  affect  the  working 
classes?'  Now  the  great  iron  and  woolen  interests 
are  represented  in  Congress  because  the}-  are  backed 
up  by  the  money  power  behind  them,  and  labor, 
without  which  those  interests  would  be  valueless, 
ought  to  find  full  as  efficient  a  backer  in  its  millions 
of  votes — thrown  away  every  election  because  one 
half  of  you  don't  understand  the  intelligent  use  of 
the  ballot  and  the  other  half  are  bound  to  sustain  a 
party  because  some  office-seeking  demagogue  tells 
you  that  the  whole  country  will  go  to  rack  and  ruin 
if  you  don't" 

Now  this  speech  was  not  exactly  "made  on  the 
spur  of  the  moment"  It  had  been  thought  out  in 
his  hours  of  respite  from  toil.  It  had  been  as  a  fire 
shut  up  in  his  bones  through  all  the  long  wear}'  days 
of  the  strike,  and  now  that  he  had  an  opportunity  to 
let  it  forth,  his  burning,  trenchant  sentences  came 
like  the  rush  of  many  waters.  The  electric  fire  with 
which  his  whole  being  was  charged  even  passed  to  a 
few  of  the  more  sober  and  thoughtful  part  of  his 
audience.  The}'  began  to  cheer. 

Nelson  might  have  finished  his  speech  in  good 
order  and  had  the  satisfaction  of  quelling  the  incipi 
ent  riot  in  its  first  stages,  but  two  untoward  things 
prevented.  For  in  the  first  place  scattered  through 


188  Between  Two   Opinions. 

the  crowd  of  workmen  were  numbers  of  that  loose, 
floating  class  of  whom  he  had  spoken  to  Martin  Tre- 
worthy,  and  who  were  not  at  all  suited  by  any  such 
tame  ending  of  affairs.  They  had  joined  the  mob 
for  the  fun  of  seeing  a  riot,  and  a  riot  they  meant  to 
have.  And  in  the  second  place  his  scathing  arraign 
ment  of  the  saloon  as  the  chief  source  of  their  ills 
was  not  agreeable  to  those  of  the  workmen  who  had 
imbibed  the  theories  of  Socialistic  speakers.  They 
were  accustomed  to  hearing  all  the  blame  laid  on  the 
shoulders  of  the  manufacturers,  and  preferred  de 
cidedly  that  solution  of  their  difficulties.  Such  wild 
and  lawless  elements  were  not  to  be  controlled, 
though  they  might  receive  a  momentary  check  by 
the  array  of  statistics  and  argument  in  the  young 
workman's  speech.  To  the  majority  of  the  rabble  it 
had  only  been,  to  use  the  words  of  Jeremiah,  "like  a 
very  lovely  song  of  one  that  hath  a  pleasant  voice 
and  can  play  well  on  an  instrument."  The  novelty 
over,  the  reckless,  rioting  spirit  again  began  to  mani 
fest  itself. 

"Come,  dry  up  now.  We've  heard  enough  of  your 
talk.  You  are  the  feller  that's  been  standing  up  all 
along  for  these  rich,  lazy,  lollypops  of  manufactur 
ers.  And  that's  what  I  think" — here  followed  an 
expression  rather  too  emphatic  for  these  pages, 
while  a  bricKbat  whizzed  uncomfortably  close  to 
Nelson's  head,  and  struck  against  the  walls  of  the 
building  behind  him — "of  you  or  any  other  working 
man  who  will  take  the  part  of  bloated  aristocrats, 
and  go  agin  his  own  flesh  and  blood." 


Reaping  the   Whirlwind.  189 

"That  was  a  weighty  but  not  a  convincing  argu 
ment,"  said  Nelson  coolly  and  sarcastically  as  he 
dodged  the  missile.  "The  friend  who  just  inter 
rupted  rne  must  take  surer  aim  next  time  if  he  wants 
to  shut  my  mouth.  This  wild,  communistic  talk 
may  do  for  Europe,  but  God  help  us  working  men 
of  America  should  we  ever  make  assassination  and 
dynamite  the  weapons  of  our  warfare,  for  then  hate 
will  rise  up  to  answer  to  hate,  passion  to  passion, 
and  I  warn  you  the  contest  will  be  a  very  unequal 
one.  Bad  leaders  and  bad  liquor  do  the  cause  of 
labor  more  harm  than  all  the  -bloated  aristocrats'  in 
the  land." 

"If  the  rich  uns  mought  'ev  their  wine,  the  poor 
uns  mought  'ev  their  beer,"  shouted  out  a  brawny 
Cornish  man,  whose  Vulcan-like  strength  was  only 
to  be  surpassed  by  the  ugliness  of  his  temper  when 
too  full  of  his  favorite  dram.  While  another  chimed 
in  derisively: 

"I'll  be  bound  old  Densler  keeps  plent}*  of  the  real 
stuff  in  his  cellar.  Maybe  we'll  make  a  visit  there 
to-night  and  find  out." 

The  mob  laughed  and  shouted  at  this  piece  of 
bravado. 

Nelson  opened  his  mouth  to  reply.  A  stone 
struck  him  squarely  on  the  jaw.  The  spirit  of  riot 
had  once  more  taken  possession  of  the  crowd,  and 
there  was  only  time  for  the  heartsick  feeling  that  he 
was  indeed  a  prophet  without  honor  to  rush  over 
him  in  a  bitter  wave,  before  the  necessity  of  looking 
out  for  his  own  personal  safety  became  pressingly 


190  Between  Two   Opinions. 

apparent.     In  vain  the  policemen  used  their  clubs. 
Stones  and  brickbats  flew  promiscuously. 

Nelson  was  agile  and  quick  in  expedients.  He 
turned  down  an  alley  with  half  a  dozen  of  the  rioters 
at  his  heels,  intent  on  giving  him  rough  usage  if 
they  should  succeed  in  getting  their  hands  on  him, 
then  darted  through  an  open  doorway,  the  door 
kindly  shutting  to  behind  him  and  interposing  a 
strong  barricade  of  bolts  and  bars  against  his  baffled 
pursuers,  who  hung  around  it  for  awhile  like  en 
raged  wasps,  and  then  left  him  alone  with  his  de 
liverer,  who  was  no  other  than  our  old  friend  Pat 
Murphy.  Ever  since  casting  his  vote  for  the  W.  C. 
T.  U.  Pat  had  stood  fairly  by  his  newly  discovered 
principles,  considering  all  the  temptations  to  do 
otherwise  which  were  in  his  way.  It  must  be  re 
marked,  however,  that  the  women  of  the  W.  C.  T.  U. 
have  a  habit  (inconvenient  for  liquor  sellers  and 
their  political  allies)  of  not  abating  a  whit  of  their 
fervor  and  zeal  when  election  day  is  over,  and  their 
lines  of  effort  are  wonderfully  varied.  Mrs.  Judge 
Haviland  herself  had  sent  flowers  and  hot-house 
grapes  to  his  daughter  slowly  dying  of  consumption, 
and  baskets  of  warm  clothing  for  the  younger  chil 
dren;  and  it  cannot  be  denied  that  such  ministra 
tions  in  the  saloon-cursed  homes  of  Jacksonville 
had,  to  illogical  minds  like  Pat's,  a  peculiarly  con 
vincing  power.  Anyway  he  held  "the  temperance 
women"  in  high  regard,  and  had  they  been  veritable 
canonized  saints  could  not  have  spoken  of  them  on 
all  occasions  with  more  reverential  respect. 


Reaping  the    Whirlwind.  191 

Pat  knew  Nelson  and  liked  him. 

"Och,  Misther  Newhall,  but  }-e're  safe  now.  Bad 
luck  to  the  murtherin'  villains." 

"I  wish  I  could  see  Mr.  Densler,"  said  Nelson, 
after  he  had  duly  thanked  his  rescuer.  "I  wonder 
if  he  has  left  his  office  yet." 

"The  boss?" — and  Pat  grinned — "He  come  here 
about  tin  minutes  ago  in.  about  as  big  a  hurry  as 
yerself.  Ye'll  foind  him  in  that  little  room  beyant, 
but  och,  he's  cross  as  a  bear  with  a  sore  head." 

Nelson  started  in  very  natural  surprise  to  find  that 
his  retreat  was  shared  by  his  employer,  but  the  fact 
was  Matthew  Densler  enjoyed  the  distinction  of 
being  the  best-hated  manufacturer  in  Jacksonville. 
He  had  left  his  office  by  a  back  way,  but  when  he 
saw  that  the  rioters  had  full  possession  of  the  street 
he  would  have  to  traverse  in  order  to  reach  his 
home,  he  concluded  that  it  would  be  more  prudent 
to  seek  some  place  of  safety  and  wait,  either  till  the 
disturbance  was  over,  or  a  guard  of  policemen  could 
be  summoned  to  escort  him.  At  present  those 
officials  had  their  hands  full,  and  all  that  the  dis 
comforted  manufacturer  could  do  was  to  watch  the 
progress  of  affairs  from  the  cobweb-curtained  win 
dow  of  his  retreat — a  rough,  unfinished  room  used 
for  purposes  of  general  storage. 

He  was,  as  Pat  had  informed  Nelson,  in  a  decid 
edly  bearish  frame  of  mind,  and  gave  only  a  surly 
nod  to  the  latter,  who  now,  that  the  excitement  was 
over,  felt  both  weary  and  heartsick.  He  had  cast 
his  pearls  before  swine.  Was  it  strange  that  they 


192  Between   Two   Opinions. 

should  turn  again  and  rend  him?  But  the  heart  of 
the  young  workman  throbbed  too  deeply  in  pity  and 
sorrow  for  his  misguided  brethren  to  feel  altogether 
sympathetic  towards  his  irate  employer. 

"The  mob  is  threatening  to  sack  your  house,  Mr. 
Densler,"  he  said.  "They  would  not  attempt  such 
a  thing  till  night,  of  course,  and  they  may  not  at 
tempt  it  at  all,  but  I  think  it  would  be  wise  to  set  a 
guard  over  it." 

Nelson  received  but  small  thanks  for  his  informa 
tion. 

"A  pretty  pass  things  have  got  to  when  an  honest 
citizen  has  to  seek  the  protection  of  the  civil  authori 
ties  in  his  own  home!  But  the}T  needn't  think  to 
frighten  me  into  giving  in.  No;  not  while  my  name 
is  Matthew  Densler." 

Nelson  had  spoken  his  mind  to  the  riotous  work 
men.  Here  was  an  excellent  chance,  often  longed 
for,  to  speak  his  mind  to  the  other  side. 

"Mr.  Densler,  I  want  to  say  a  word." 

"Say  on,"  was  the  gruff  response. 

"Supposing  you  manufacturers  all  went  by  the 
Golden  Rule,  and  treated  your  employes  exactly  as 
you  would  like  to  be  treated  yourselves,  do  you 
think  there  would  be  all  this  strife  and  violence?" 

"Yes;"  was  the  furious  response.  "While  they 
have  their  Grand  Worthy  Something  or  other,  like 
that  Gerrish — I  can't  remember  all  the  fellow's  titles 
to  come  between  and  stir  it  up.  Curse  their  con 
founded  impudence!  The  other  manufacturers  may 
give  in.  They'll  find  I  am  made  of  sterner  stuff." 


Reaping  the   Whirl  win  J.  193 

"I  think  myself,"  said  Nelson,  steadily,  "that 
these  secret  labor  unions  are  not  for  the  good  of 
either  side,  though  I  n^self  belong  to  one.  But. 
Mr.  Densler,  if  I  mistake  not,  you  yourself  belong 
to  a  Board  of  Trade  whose  onl}~  object  is  to  so  con 
trol  the  market  as  to  add  to  the  alread}*  colossal  for 
tunes  of  its  members.  While  you  capitalists  com 
bine  together  to  innate  or  depress  prices  at  your 
own  will,  can  you  blame  working  men  for  combining 
too?  Can  you  set  them  an  example  of  selfishness 
and  greed  and  not  expect  that  they  will  follow  it?" 

Some  men  rather  like  a  blunt  presentation  of  the 
truth.  Matthew  Densler  was  one  of  that  class.  He 
smiled  grimly. 

"Go  on.  You  are  just  the  kind  of  a  chap  I  like 
to  hear  talk,  and  if  I  had  had  two  or  three  like  you 
to  treat  with  in  the  beginning  of  the  fuss  there 
might  not  have  been  any  at  all." 

"I  have  but  one  thing  more  to  say,  Mr.  Densler. 
The  working  man's  enemy  is  yours.  When  drink 
steals  away  his  brains  he  is  read}*  for  riots — read}* 
to  kill  and  burn  and  destroy.  But  you  manufactur 
ers  think  too  much  of  your  business,  your  comfort. 
or  your  convenience,  to  attend  the  caucusses  and 
primaries,  and  look  out  for  what  the  saloon  interest 
is.  doing.  If  you  allow  it  to  bribe,  to  corrupt,  to 
control,  do  not  wonder  when  you  reap  the  bitter 
fruits  of  your  own  sowing." 

Matthew  Densler  called  himself  a  temperance 
man,  and  in  one  sense  this  was  true.  He  did  not 
drink  liquor  himself,  nor  did  he  offer  it  to  others, 


194  Between   Two   Opinions. 

and  if  the  mob  carried  out  their  threat  of  visiting 
his  house  they  would  have  been  likely  to  be  disap 
pointed  in  the  contents  of  his  cellar.  But  at  the 
same  time  he  had  never  taken  any  strong  ground 
for  prohibition.  A  political  measure  was  of  interest 
tojiim  merely  as  it  might  injure  or  benefit  his  busi 
ness.  Prohibitionists  and  reformers  generally  he 
was  a  little  inclined  to  despise — they  did  not  know 
how  to  make  mone}7. 

We  take  pleasure  in  sketching  Matthew  Densler's 
portrait  thus  minutely,  not  that  he  has  much  to  do 
with  our  story,  but  because  he  represents  very  fairly 
a  class  of  "penny-wise,  pound-foolish"  manufactur 
ers  who  are  quite  too  common.  But  this  much 
must  in  justice  be  said  of  him.  If  he  was  a  hard, 
obstinate,  irrascible  man,  he  was  at  least  an  honest 
one.  He  had  the  Anglo-Saxon  instinct  for  fair  play 
and  no  favor,  and  was  not  at  all  displeased  with  the 
young  workman  for  this  frank  statement  of  his 
opinions. 

"Go  on,"  he  said,  with  the  same  grim  smile. 
"You  seem  to  have  taken  it  upon  you  to  set  my  sins 
in  order  before  me,  and  as  it  happens  I  haven't  any 
thing  to  do  just  now  but  to  listen." 

"Mr.  Densler,"  said  Nelson,  flushing,  "my  remarks 
were  not  intended  to  have  a  personal  bearing.  I  be 
lieve  you  are  full  as  just  as  the  average,  but  while 
you  rich  manufacturers  care  more  for  making  money 
than  for  the  bodies  or  souls  of  your  workmen, 
these  foreign  anarchists  and  socialists  will  find  a  fair 
field  among  them.  Not  a  third  of  the  hands  are 


Reaping  the    Whirlwind.  195 

concerned  in  this  riot,  but  of  that  third  beer  and 
whisky  are  the  leaders.  If  you  persist  in  ignoring 
the  greatest  issue  of  the  age,  why,  look  out  The 
time  may  come  when  you  will  have  to  call  for  armed 
soldiers  to  defend  your  property  instead  of  a  few 
policemen." 

But  even  as  the  last  words  left  Nelson's  lips  an 
unwonted  sound  for  the  streets  of  Jacksonville 
caused  them  both  to  start.  Above  the  roar  and 
yells  of  the  mob  came  the  sharp  and  simultaneous 
report  of  firearms.  In  the  melee  one  of  the  strikers 
had  drawn  his  knife,  seriously  stabbing  a  policeman, 
and  the  men  of  law,  tired  of  using  their  clubs,  had 
at  last  opened  fire  on  the  rioters. 

Matthew  Densler  was  not  an  unfeeling  man.  "With 
a  pallor  in  his  face  and  a  shiver  through  his  limbs 
he  turned  to  Nelson. 

"You've  come  down  on  me  hard,  but  I  don't  think 
any  the  worse  of  you  for  it.  God  knows  I  would 
have  given  my  right  hand  not  to  have  this  happen." 

"I  believe  it,  Mr.  Densler,"  said  Nelson,  earnestly. 

At  that  moment  employer  and  employed  had  a 
much  better  understanding  of  each  other  than  ever 
before. 

The  riot  was  soon  over.  The  mob  melted  away 
in  confusion,  leaving  two  of  their  number  prostrate 
on  the  pavement — one  stone  dead,  the  other  breath 
ing  faintly,  but  shot  through  a  vital  part. 

The}'  earned  him  -into  the  works,  it  was  the  near 
est  place,  and  made  him  as  comfortable  as  possible 
for  the  few  hours  of  life  which  remained  to  him. 


196  Between    Two   Opinions. 

The  streets  were  soon  quiet — abnormally  quiet. 
Business  and  pleasure  were  alike  suspended.  All 
sorts  of  wild  stories  were  flying  about,  rumors  of 
wholesale  incendiarism  were  in  the  air,  and  many  of 
the  citizens  formed  themselves  into  armed  bands  to 
patrol  the  streets  till  daybreak.  Lodge-ruled  and 
saloon-ridden  Jacksonville  was  beginning  to  eat  the 
fruit  of  her  own  doings. 

Just  as  Nelson,  seeing  that  the  danger  was  over 
for  the  present,  was  about  to  leave  his  place  of  re 
fuge,  a  summons  came  for  him  to  hasten  with  all 
speed  to  the  side  of  the  dying  man. 

"His  name  is  Schumacher,"  said  the  messenger, 
in  response  to  Nelson's  inquiry.  "He's  seemed 
awful  restless  and  uneasy — 'pears  to  have  something 
on  his  mind  like." 

Socialist  and  infidel  though  he  was,  Nelson  had 
always  felt  a  certain  liking  for  Schumacher  as  a  man 
capable  of  better  things,  and  he  felt  shocked  and 
grieved. 

He  found  him  tying  on  his  hastily  improvised 
couch,  with  his  eyes  closed  and  the  pallor  of  death 
upon  his  face;  but  when  Nelson  approached  he 
opened  them  and  said  faintly: 

"I  want  to  see  you  alone." 

The  standers-by  respected  his  wish  and  withdrew. 
In  the  presence  of  this  soul  going  into  eternity,  even 
curiosity  to  know  what  he  had  to  say  to  him  grew 
dormant  in  Nelson's  mind.  The  rough  room,  the 
dimly-burning  lamp,  which  happened  to  be  so  placed 
that  his  own  figure  was  cast  in  grotesque  outlines  on 


Reaping  the    Whirlwind.  197 

the  wall,  all  seemed  to  waver  and  shift  before  him 
like  the  figures  in  a  dream,  while  with  straining  ears 
he  listened  to  the  dying  man.  who  spoke  in  faint  but 
distinct  whispers. 

-I  made  that  machine  for  blowing  up  the  works. 
I  didn't  put  it  in  the  building.  I  don't  know  who 
did.  But  I  never  thought  of  their  accusing  you. 
On  nry  soul  I  didn't." 

'•Let  that  all  go,"  said  Neson,  soothingly;  for  on 
the  whole  he  was  not  much  surprised  at  the  revela 
tion.  "Had  3*ou  meant  to  injure  me  I  should  have 
f orgi  ven  you  all  the  same,  for  I  hope  I  am  a  Chris 
tian,  and  as  it  is  there  is  nothing  to  forgive.  It  is 
against  GTod  and  your  fellow-men  that  you  have 
sinned." 

"But  I  had  to  do  it.  I  must  tell  you  that.  We 
were  detailed.  Each  one  had  his  share  in  the  job, 
and  if  we  had  refused  or  let  on,  it  would  have  been 
death." 

Horror-struck.  Nelson  listened.  He  had  read  of 
the  Nihilists.  Invincibles.  and  Black  Hand,  but 
always  with  a  faint  and  far-off  kind  of  interest  as 
something  that  did  not  and  never  would  directly 
concern  him.  Yet  right  here  in  Jacksonville  there 
was,  according  to  Schumacher's  statement,  a  secret 
organization  which,  whatever  might  be  its  name,  was 
modelled  after  them,  both  in  purpose  and  methods 
of  working. 

"That  isn't  all,"  he  added,  speaking  with  a  strange, 
feverish  energy.  "We've  got  our  list  of  marked 
men — obstructionists,  we  call  them.  Matthew  Dens- 


198  Between   Two    Opinions. 

ler  is  one;  you  are  another.  Last  night  we  held  a 
meeting  and  drew  lots.  We  don't  go  by  our  own 
names,  we  go  by  numbers.  The  red  paper  with 
your  name  on  it  was  drawn  by  No.  10.  I  am 
No.  10." 

Nelson  gasped  for  breath.  He  felt  a  horrible 
sense  of  suffocation,  and  then  a  sudden  wave,  half 
of  pity,  half  of  increduility,  rolled  awaj7  the  night 
mare  feeling  sufficiently  for  him  to  speak. 

"You  never  would  have  taken  my  life,  Schumach 
er.  I  don't — I  can't  believe  it." 

"I  was  bound  by  my  oath  to  do  it  or  be  killed  my 
self.  That's  a  kind  of  a  tight  place  to  put  a  man 
into.  But  now  you  must  go  away  from  Jackson 
ville;  there's  no  other  way.  I  couldn't  die  without 
warning  you.  You  must  go — go — quick." 

The  d}Ting  man  sank  back  exhausted  by  the  effort 
of  speaking.  Nelson  hastily  summoned  the  physi 
cian  and  watchers.  A  stimulant  was  administered 
and  he  partially  revived,  but  his  mind  seemed  to 
wander.  The  words  he  uttered  were  not  coherent, 
only  one  several  times  repeated  sounded  like 
"mother."  He  was  back  in  his  childhood's  home 
with  his  parents,  simple,  Bible-loving  German  Chris 
tians,  who  never  dreamed  when  the  old  Lutheran 
pastor  sprinkled  the  baptismal  drops  on  his  infant 
brow  that  their  only  son  would  be  left  to  wander  in 
the  dark  mazes  of  infidelity. 

And  how  did  it  come  about?  Through  associa 
tion  with  the  atheistic,  communistic  leaders  of  a 
secret  labor  union.  And  the  same  process  is  going 


Reaping  the    Whirlwind.  199 

on  all  over  our  land  to  day ;  the  subtle  poison  is 
being  silently  injected  through  the  myriad  Christ- 
excluding  lodge  worships  that  are  paraded  in  the 
newspapers  and  defended  by  unthinking,  Christian 
people  as  nothing  but  harmless  benefit  societies. 
Poor  Schumacher  had  only  become  a  convert  to  the 
universal  religion  of  Masonry  that  puts  the  Bible, 
the  Koran  and  the  Vedas  on  the  same  level;  and  if 
to  him  Christ  was  only  a  great  spiritualist  medium, 
a  mere  man,  of  wonderful  powers  but  perfectly  to 
be  accounted  for,  let  not  that  minister  or  church 
member  who  offers  strange  fire  at  altars  where  the 
very  mention  of  that  Holy  Name  by  which  he  is 
called  is  forbidden,  cast  the  first  stone  at  this  be 
wildered  and  deceived  workingman  who  simply  fol 
lowed  out  to  their  logical  conclusions  the  doctrines 
taught  in  every  Masonic  or  Odd-fellow  lodge. 

Suddenly  he  opened  his  eyes  with  a  gleam  of  con 
sciousness. 

"It  is  dark,"  he  muttered,  "dark,  DARK!" 

•'Do  3*ou  want  a  minister  sent  for?"  inquired  the 
doctor,  who  thought  it  about  the  right  thing  to  pro 
pose,  though  he  had  no  great  faith  in  ministers, 
being  himself  a  believer  in  the  same  '-universal  re 
ligion." 

But  he  shook  his  head,  and  his  eye  fell  on  Nelson 
with  a  look  of  supplication.  Over  that  sandy 
foundation  of  negatives  on  which  he  had  built  his 
faith,  or  rather  no  faith,  were  fast  rushing  the  cold 
waters  of  death — fierce,  inexorable,  hungry  for  their 
prey. 


200  Between   Two   Opinions. 

Nelson  was  a  Christian  man;  he  knew  that  implor 
ing  glance  was  directed  to  him.  He  must  say  some 
thing.  Slowly  and  distinctly  he  repeated  that  prec 
ious  text,  which,  while  the  world  stands,  shall  be  as 
a  beacon  light  flashing  far  out  over  the  dark  sea  of 
eternity: 

"Gk>d  so  loved  the  world" — Nelson's  heart  was 
tender  with  his  own  recent  practicing  of  the  God 
like  grace  of  pity,  and  perhaps  for  that  reason  he 
threw  into  the  familiar  words,  all  unconsciously  to 
himself,  a,  deeper  pathos  and  power — "God  so  loved 
the  world  that  he  gave  his  only  begotten  Son,  that 
whosoever  believeth  in  him  should  not  perish,  but 
have  everlasting  life." 

Over  the  face  of  the  dying  stole  a  strange  calm: 
whether  the  calm  of  dissolving  nature  or  the  peace 
which  passeth  all  understanding,  who  shall  say? 

A  moment's  labored  breathing,  and  Schumacher, 
infidel  and  socialist,  lay  dead. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

A   MODERN    PUBLICAN. 

We  will  now  visit  quieter  scenes. 

Fairfield  is  rejoicing  in  a  flourishing  Farmer's 
Grange,  and  though  Israel  Deming's  trial  of  "the 
machine"  had  not  been  altogether  satisfactory,  none 
of  the  sanguinary  results  which  Uncle  Zeb's  com 
parison  had  seemed  to  dimly  predict  have  yet  hap 
pened.  As  for  Dora,  she  has  found  the  grange  pre 
cisely  what  she  wanted  and  expected — a  field  for 
new  conquests  over  the  hearts  of  her  rustic  admir 
ers,  as  well  as  a  most  advantageous  theater  for  the 
display  of  her  pretty  features,  and  all  those  general 
feminine  bewitchments  which  ever  since  the  Fall 
have  beguiled  the  foolish  Adams  of  our  race. 

Uncle  Zeb  sometimes  slyly  inquired  with  an  in 
ward  chuckle  "if  the  machine  was  working  well." 

"Beautifully,"  broke  in  Dora  on  one  of  these  oc 
casions,  addingly  saucily,  "You  needn't  ask  father. 
He  hasn't  got  his  mind  made  up  yet" 

Mr.  Deming  laughed  and  gave  her  rosy  cheek  a 
playful  pinch. 

"I  believe  a  good  frolic  is  all  you  young  folks 
care  about." 

"We  were  all  young  ourselves  once/'  sagaciously 
observed  Uncle  Zeb.  "I  remember  the  husking 


202  Between   Two   Opinions. 

parties  I  used  to  go  to  when  I  was  a  boy  amost  as 
well  as  though  the  last  one  only  happened  yester 
day.  And  I  remember  the  hogsheads  of  New  Eng 
land  rum  they  used  to  tap  whenever  there  was  a  bee 
or  a  raising  or  anything  of  that  kind.  How  the 
times  have  altered.  It  does  beat  all.  Our  minister 
used  to  preach  rousing  sermons  on  election  and  fore- 
ordination  and  the  eternal  sovereignty,  and  I  rely 
think  he  was  a  good  man,  but  he  used  to  like  his 
glass  of  toddy  as  well  as  anybod}^  and  it's  a  fact 
now — I've  known  him  in  his  parish  visits  to  take  so 
much  at  the  different  places  he  went  to  that  when 
he  come  to  go  home  he  couldn't  walk  straight. 
Talking  about  that  makes  me  think  of  what  Deacon 
Wetherby  told  me  to-day  about  Snyder  that  keeps 
that  doggery  over  to  the  east  part.  He's  got  con 
verted." 

"You  don't  say  so,"  responded  Mr.  Deming. 
"Well,  well;  that's  good  news,  if  it  is  true,"  he  added 
with  a  little  touch  of  doubtfulness,  which  perhaps 
he  ought  not  to  have  felt,  considering  how  many 
times  he  had  read  the  story  of  Zaccheus  the  publi 
can. 

"Oh,  there  ain't  a  bit  of  doubt,"  briskly  responded 
Uncle  Zeb,  who  could  gossip  about  anything,  a  con 
version  or  a  revival  as  soon  as  a  marriage  or  a 
death.  "Deacon  Wetherb}^  says  it  makes  him  think 
of  Saul  of  Tarsus  to  hear  him  a  praisin'  and  a 
prayin'.  And  you  know  he  was  one  of  the  lowest 
kind  of  critters  before.  And  sez  I,  'Deacon,  that 
shows  we  ain't  to  despair  of  the  most  miserable  sin- 


A  Modem  Publican.  203 

ner  that  walks  the  earth.  The  Lord's  mercy  ain't 
straitened.'  And  the  Deacon,  he  jest  grasped  my 
hand  and  sez  he,  'Uncle  Zeb,  I  feel  like  goin'  around 
and  singin'  "Amazin'  grace"  all  the  time  since  I 
he'erdonV" 

Dora  had  slipped  away  while  this  conversation 
was  in  progress.  We  must  confess  the  truth — 
neither  temperance  nor  religion  were  to  this  young 
damsel  very  attractive  themes.  She  hated  the  sight 
and  smell  of  rum,  and  as  for  rumsellers,  they  were  a 
miserable,  degraded  set,  and  drunkards'  wives  and 
children — why,  they  were  to  be  pitied  of  course. 
But  as  she  generally  ended  by  putting  all  such 
thoughts  out  of  her  head  as  soon  as  possible,  the 
reader  will  perceive  that  no  very  great  drafts  were 
made  on  her  sympathies.  She  was  glad  in  a  general 
way  that  that  wretched  Snyder  was  going  to  quit 
rumselling  and  lead  a  better  life.  Why  couldn't 
everybody  be  good  and  respectable?  It  would  be 
so  much  easier  for  themselves  and  better  all  round. 

The  deep,  solemn  problems  of  human  existence, 
that  mystery  of  sin  and  misery  under  whose  weight 
creation  groans  and  travails,  she  either  passed  over 
entirely  or  touched  with  the  same  ignorant  lightness 
with  which  a  butterfly  might  be  supposed  to  sun  its 
wings  alit  on  a  page  of  mathematical  diagrams. 

This  modern  publican  was  no  other  than  Peter 
Snyder,  who,  since  he  was  cast  out  from  Jackson 
ville,  had  wandered  through  dry  places  seeking  rest, 
and  finding  an  empty  shanty  in  a  part  of  Fairfield 
where  he  could  ply  his  trade  without  much  risk  of 


204  Between  Two   Opinions. 

molestation,  he  had  taken  possession  thereof  and  set 
up  what  was  ostensibly  a  small  grocer}-  store,  but 
where  the  initiated  could  obtain  at  any  hour  of  the 
day  or  night  the  very  vilest  brand  of  liquor  in  the 
market. 

It  is  decidedly  pleasant  to  look  upon  one's  self  as 
persecuted  in  a  good  cause.  Peter  Snyder  consid 
ered  himself  a  martyr  to  the  doctrine  of  personal 
libert}T,  but  we  must  confess  that  he  showed  very  lit 
tle  of  the  martyr  meekness.  If,  during  his  stay  in 
Jacksonville,  he  had  seemed  possessed  of  an  evil 
spirit  to  seduce  and  destroy,  like  the  man  in  the  par 
able,  that  evil  spirit  had  returned  to  him  since  he 
settled  in  Fairfield  intensified  sevenfold.  He  had 
always  sold  rum  for  a  living  and  he  meant  to  sell  it; 
and  every  bothering,  fanatical  fool,  who,  as  he 
pathetically  expressed  it,  "was  trying  to  ruin  a  poor 
man's  business,"  he  consigned  in  no  gracious  terms 
to  the  adversary  of  God  and  men,  with  whom,  judging 
from  the  frequency  and  freedom  with  which  he  used 
his  name,  Mr.  Peter  Snyder  seemed  to  be  on  very 
intimate  terms. 

But  why  should  the  candid  reader  utterly  condemn 
this  poor,  nineteenth-century  publican  for  his  reso 
lution.  He  had  the  government  permit  to  sell  liquor. 
Why  shouldn't  he  sell  it?  We  are  told  in  Holy 
Writ  that  earthly  governments  are  God's  viceroys; 
and  if,  standing  in  the  place  of  Eternal  Justice, 
Eternal  Purity,  Eternal  Love,  they  dare  to  license 
that  which  is  the  cup  of  death  to  soul  and  body,  to 
put  bitter  for  sweet  and  sweet  for  bitter,  darkness 


A  Modern  Publican.  205 

for  light  and  light  for  darkness,  is  it  strange  that  in 
the  minds  of  the  governed,  especial!}-  that  class  who, 
like  Mr.  Peter  Sn}-der,  are  not  in  the  habit  of  mak 
ing  nice  moral  distinctions,  there  should  exist  some 
confusion  of  ideas.  Why  is  it  right  for  the  nation 
to  sell  rum,  and  wrong  for  the  individual?  And  if 
rumselling  is  right,  wh}-  may  not  some  other  things 
be  right  too?  It  is  from  the  class  of  minds  thus 
taught  to  question  that  the  socialist  will  always 
make  the  readiest  converts  to  his  doctrine  of  dagger 
and  dynamite.  Congressmen,  legislators,  and  "all 
in  authorit}-"  from  the  Chief  Executive  to  the  local 
magistrate,  can  3-011  afford  to  run  the  fearful  risk 
that  eveiy  government  must  run  which  makes  right 
and  wrong  mere  rhetorical  terms  b}T  licensing 
iniquity,  and  then  joining  as  an  active  partner  by 
taking  to  itself  ninety  per  cent  of  the  profit?  Is  it 
not  warming  in  its  own  bosom  the  serpent's  eggs 
which  in  time  will  hatch  the  cockatrice  of  anarchy 
and  revolution? 

But  to  return  to  our  publican.  He  was  low  and 
despised.  Decent  and  respectable  society  would 
have  shuddered  at  the  very  idea  of  admitting  him 
within  its  pale;  but  was  there  in  his  heart  some  la 
tent  seed  of  good,  or  did  the  prayers  of  his  long- 
sainted  Methodist  mother  come  up  in  remembrance 
before  God,  or  was  it  that  sublime,  inscrutable  pur 
pose  of  Jehovah  to  have  mere}'  on  whom  he  will 
have  mere}-  that  wrought  the  miracle?  For  while 
theologians  dispute  over  the  nature  and  laws  of 
miracles  and  look  askance  on  cases  of  faith  healing 


20(>  Between    Two   Opinions. 

as  a  superstition  of  weak  and  simple  minds,  the 
work  of  the  supernatural  goes  on  in  the  same  grand 
ly  immutable  fashion  with  which  the  sun  shines  and 
the  rain  falls  and  the  seasons  come  and  go  and  ask 
no  leave  of  any  theological  school. 

Mr.  Peter  Snyder  had  moments  when  his  con 
science  was  not  at  ease,  and  like  the  troubled  sea 
when  it  cannot  rest,  it  cast  up  mire  and  dirt.  It  was 
at  these  periodical  seasons  that  he  swore  the  loudest 
and  declaimed  most  violently  against  "hypocrites," 
under  which  comprehensive  term  he  meant  to  in 
clude  in  a  general  way  everybody  who  made  any 
pretensions  to  be  better  than  himself.  For  it  must 
be  explained  that  Mr.  Snyder  decidedly  resented 
being  classed  among  the  world's  off-scourings — its 
pariahs  and  its  Ishmaels.  In  his  own  opinion  he 
was  no  worse  than  the  professing  Christian  who,  for 
the  sake  of  gain,  rents  his  property  to  a  saloonist, 
or  the  politician  who,  for  the  sake  of  securing  votes, 
caters  to  the  saloon  interest,  or  the  public  official 
who  winks  at  violations  of  the  law  in  his  Masonic 
brethren;  and  on  the  whole,  looking  at  the  subject 
from  an  unprejudiced  point  of  view,  we  are  inclined 
to  think  him  in  the  right. 

So  when  it  was  reported  that  a  series  of  revival 
meetings  were  going  to  be  held  in  the  neighborhood, 
Mr.  Snyder  had  considerable  to  say  on  the  subject, 
but  we  will  not  take  the  trouble  of  transcribing  his 
remarks  as  the  reader  can  easily  imagine  their  gen 
eral  drift  and  tenor. 

"They  say  Elder  Wood  is  a  goin'  to  come  down 


A  Modern  Publican.  207 

on  the  Masons  red  hot.  That'll  suit  you,  Sn}*der." 
chuckled  Jack  Bender,  who,  with  several  other  red- 
.  nosed  and  bloated  specimens  of  humanitj*,  was 
lounging  round  the  bar-room  stove,  discussing  the 
forthcoming  meetings  in  that  free  and  liberal  style 
with  which  such  matters  are  general!}'  argued  un 
der  the  inspiration  of  an  atmosphere  reeking  with 
oaths  and  tobacco  smoke. 

"You  don't  say  so,"  responded  the  worthy  pro 
prietor  of  the  establishment;  and  after  an  instant's 
reflection  he  brought  his  fist  down  on  the  counter 
and  roared  out  with  a  tremendous  oath: 

"  Then  Til  go  to  hear  him:' 

Jack  laughed. 

"Did  ye  hear  that,  boys?  Snyder  is  willing  to  go 
to  hear  the  water  saint  jist  for  the  fun  of  hearing 
him  blow  up  the  Masons.  If  that  ain't  about  the 
nighest  to  cutting  off  }*er  nose  to  spite  yer  face  as 
anything  /ever  hearn  on." 

But  Mr.  Snyder's  resolution  was  not  of  a  kind  to 
be  shaken  by  a  little  harmless  chaffing. 

"I  don't  care  if  it  is,  '  he  responded  fiercely.  "I've 
said  I'll  go,  and  I  will  go.  And  now  jist  look  here. 
Any  on  ye  as  goes  to  acting  off  shines  on  the 
preacher  will  have  me  agin  him  square.  I  give  ye 
fair  warning." 

This  was  not  altogether  an  idle  threat,  as  Mr.  Sny 
der  had  been  in  former  days  a  pugilist  of  consider 
able  local  renown.  Even  now  he  was  a  match  for 
three  rowdies  like  Jack  Bender. 

Good  Elder  Wood  had  no  idea  that  the  rough, 


208  Jlctween   Two   Opinions. 

hardened-looking  man  who  took  his  station  close  to 
the  platform  and  listened  with  such  edifying  atten 
tion  was  really  plaj'ing  the  part  of  a  protecting 
angel;  still  less  of  the  strange  leadings  through 
which  God  was  about  to  glorify  his  name  by  one  of 
those  signal  triumphs  of  redeeming  grace  which  in 
the  biographies  of  a  Bunyan  or  a  Newton  seem  to 
show  us  as  by  a  lightning  flash  the  unsearchable 
depths  in  that  love  which  passeth  knowledge. 

Neither  was  an}^  such  thought  in  the  mind  of 
Peter  Snyder  when  he  went  to  hear  this  anti-rum, 
anti-tobacco,  anti-lodge  apostle.  His  anger  against 
the  Masons  had  burned  with  a  steady  flame  ever 
since  they  refused  him  admission  into  their  "ancient 
and  honorable  fraternity."  He  understood  the  reasons 
for  this  refusal  perfectly  well.  It  was  not  because 
he  sold  rum.  It  was  not  because  he  was  a  profane, 
hardened  sinner.  He  knew  that  the  lodge  took  in 
others  as  profane  and  hardened  as  himself;  that 
being  a  brewer,  distiller,  or  dealer  in  alcoholic 
liquors  was  never  in  itself  a  bar  to  membership. 
But  a  low,  illiterate,  and  altogether  disreputable 
rumseller  could  be  no  honor  to  the  craft;  and  so  the 
lodge  simply  acted  with  a  keen  eye  to  its  own  credit 
in  thus  turning  upon  him,  as  we  have  seen,  the  cold 
shoulder,  and  treating  him  in  the  same  manner,  in 
short,  in  which  it  treats  women,  fools,  cripples, 
negroes,  minors,  and  old  men  in  their  dotage. 

He  waited  with  a  satisfied  smile  on  his  face  to 
hear  the  elder  begin  on  the  subject  of  Masonry. 
The  most  scathing  exposure  of  lodge  hypocrisy  and 


A  Modern   Publican  209 

fraud  would  have  been  as  nectar  to  Peter  Snyder's 
soul.  But  suddenly,  with  the  power  of  a  two-edged 
sword  dividing  the  joints  and  marrow,  God's  truth 
struck  him,  transfixed  him  in  an  agony.  He  forgot 
what  he  came  to  the  meeting  for.  He  forgot  every 
thing  but  one  terrible  fact — that  he  was  a  sinner. 
It  seemed  as  if  he  heard  the  very  hissing  of  the  un 
quenchable  flames,  and  felt  their  breath  in  his  face. 
He  shivered,  his  features  worked  convulsively,  and 
then  with  one  despairing  groan  he  fell  forward  in 
front  of  the  preacher's  stand  and  lay  as  one  from 
whom  the  life  had  departed. 

The  early  history  of  Methodism,  both  in  England 
and  America,  abounds  with  instances  of  strong  con 
viction  inducing  a  kind  of  cataleptic  state,  especially 
in  rough,  uneducated  natures,  as  if  the  body  lay  for 
the  time  a  bound  and  helpless  captive  to  the  spirit 
over  which  it  has  so  long  held  brutal  domination. 
The}'  belong  for  the  most  part  to  a  religious  era  that 
has  passed  away,  but  now  and  then  a  similar  com 
bination  of  causes  will  produce  a  similar  effect. 
And  whether  struck  down  by  a  supernatural  power 
directly  exerted,  or  as  modern  materialism  would  ex 
plain  it,  by  intense  excitement  causing  temporary 
paralysis  of  the  great  nerve  centers,  the  result  in 
Peter  Snyder's  case  could  not  have  been  seriously 
altered  by  either  conclusion.  He  always  averred 
that  while  lying  in  that  strange  trance  he  saw  the 
Lord,  and  those  who  knew  him  before  his  conversion 
never  felt  inclined  to  doubt  the  statement. 

He  came  to  himself  no  longer  a  swearing  rough, 


210  Bitwttn   Two   Opinions. 

but  meek  and  gentle  as  a  little  child,  and  the  first 
thing  he  did  to  attest  the  depth  and  genuineness  of 
his  conversion  was  to  roll  out  every  cask  of  liquor 
in  his  shanty  and  empty  their  contents  into  the  creek 
which  ran  back  of  his  dwelling. 

He  happened  to  be  engaged  in  this  employment 
when  Dennis  0' Sullivan,  a  regular  habitue  of  his 
establishment,  came  to  get  his  black  demijohn  filled. 
He  gazed  on  the  frightful  waste  too  spellbound  with 
horror  to  utter  even  an  exclamation,  till  he  saw  him 
knock  out  the  head  of  the  last  cask.  Then  he  could 
contain  himself  no  longer.  He  rushed  forward  in 
the  vain  hope  of  saving  it  from  the  general  destruc 
tion,  but  already  half  its  contents  had  mingled  with 
the  waters  of  the  creek,  and  gone  to  poison  the 
fishes.  He  made  a  maddened  grab  to  catch  some  of 
the  precious  liquid,  cursing  himself  meanwhile  for 
bringing  a  demijohn  instead  of  a  dipper.  But  he 
was  too  late,  and  with  a  howl  of  rage  and  disappoint 
ment  he  turned  and  fled,  as  he  honestly  believed, 
from  the  presence  of  a  lunatic,  astonishing  Mrs. 
0' Sullivan  by  the  unheard-of  phenomenon  of  his  re 
turn  home  at  an  early  hour  with  his  demijohn  un 
filled,  and  perfectly  sober. 

The  news  of  Peter  Snyder's  conversion  spread  far 
and  wide  through  the  region.  He  was  as  strong  an 
Anti-mason  as  before,  though  from  very  different 
motives.  His  opinion  of  the  lodge  from  his  new 
standpoint  he  one  day  expressed  to  Deacon  Weath- 
erby,  who  rejoiced  over  this  brand  plucked  from  the 
burning,  as  only  saints  and  angels  can  rejoice. 


A  Modern  Publican.  211 

"A  long  time  ago,"  said  he,  "I  wanted  to  jine  the 
Masons,  and  I  felt  dreadfully  cut  up  because  they 
blackballed  me.  Now  I've  he'erd  some  folks  say 
that  the  lodge  was  as  good  as  the  church,  but  jist 
see  the  difference.  Has  Masonry  got  a  word  of  kind 
ness  for  the  poor  wretch  that  everybody  despises? 
When  he's  sinking  in  the  miry  clay  of  his  sin  wili  it 
go  to  him  and  try  to  help  lift  him  out?  Will  it 
show  him  the  Lord  Jesus  as  /  see  him  a  hangin'  on 
the  cross  with  the  nails  in  his  hands  and  feet,  and 
say,  'There,  poor  sinner;  you've  hated  the  only  One 
that  kin  save  you,  but  there  he  is  a  dyin'  that  you 
may  live.'  When  Masonry  will  do  that  it  may  call 
itself  as  good  as  the  church,  but  till  it  does  it  is  a 
swindle,  a  cheat,  and  a  devil's  lie." 

But  as  Peter  Snyder  is  to  reappear  again  in  our 
story,  we  will  leave  him  for  the  present  and  go  back 
to  Jacksonville. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

DRIVEN   FORTH. 

"You  must  leave  Jacksonville,"  said  Martin  Tre- 
worthy,  decidedly,  as  he  paced  up  and  down  the 
hermitage.  "If  you  stay  here  your  life  won't  be 
worth  insuring." 

"But  Tom — what  will  he  do  without  me?" 

"Oh,  that's  settled  easily  enough.  I  can  take 
charge  of  him  for  awhile.  Tom  and  I  are  good 
friends." 

"But  it  will  be  too  much  trouble  for  you,"  said 
Nelson,  doubtfully. 

"I  never  expected  to  live  without  trouble,"  an 
swered  Martin,  dryly;  "and  anybody  that  does  will 
be  amazingly  disappointed." 

Nelson  was  silent  a  moment,  doing  meanwhile  a 
good  deal  of  painful  thinking.  It  was  to  him  a  bit 
ter  cup  to  be  thus  driven  forth  to  a  new  field  of  com 
bat,  and  all  because  he  had  sought  too  faithfully  the 
welfare  of  his  class,  and  fought  too  bravely  against 
the  anti-Christian  forces  that  were  seeking  to  drag 
them  all  to  one  common,  brutish  level  of  the  beasts 
that  perish.  And  if  he  had  voiced  his  own  thought 
at  that  instant  it  would  have 'been  to  utter  the  wail 
of  the  old  Hebrew  prophet,  "My  people  are  destroyed 
for  lack  of  knowledge." 


Driven  Forth.  213- 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "I  will  go.  And  after  all  it  is  for 
Tom's  sake." 

Martha  and  her  aunt  lived  in  the  immediate  neigh 
borhood  of  the  riot.  They  had  passed  a  troubled 
and  anxious  night,  and  when  in  the  early  morning 
there  came  a  tap  at  the  door,  Martha  hastened  to 
open  it  with  a  premonition  of  coming  ill.  Nelson 
stood  there,  his  face  blackened  and  bruised  where 
the  rioters'  missiles  had  struck  him,  and  haggard 
with  want  of  rest.  She  suppressed  a  slight  scream, 
and  in  a  few  brief  words  he  explained  the  situation. 

"Yes,  you  must  go,"  she  said  firmly,  but  with  pal 
lid  lips,  "for  Tom's  sake — and  mine." 

"I  know  I  can  find  work  of  some  kind  somewhere 
else,"  responded  Nelson,  thinking  how  just  like 
Martha  it  was  to  put  herself  last.  "Tom,  poor  fel 
low,  has  taken  it  into  his  head  that  1  am  going  oflf 
to  find  the  farm  I  have  talked  to  him  so  much  about, 
and  I  let  him  keep  the  idea.  I  didn't  know  but  it 
might  make  him  happier  and  more  contented.  He 
will  miss  me  sadly." 

"Well,"  answered  Martha,  her  bright,  brave 
woman's  nature  asserting  itself,  "let  us  take  a  lesson 
in  child-like  trust  from  Tom.  Between  the  stores  on 
Mr.  Treworthy's  medicine  shelf,  and  the  dainty 
dishes  I  shall  compound  up  to  tempt  his  appetite, 
we  will  work  wonders.  But  you  must  not  stay,"  she 
added  with  a  slight  shiver.  "You  must  go.  God 
bless  and  keep  you,  Nelson." 

And  so  Nelson  turned  his  back  on  Jacksonville, 
and  went  forth  not  knowing  whither  he  went. 


•214  Between   Two   Opinions. 

He  had  laid  Schumacher's  information  promptly 
before  the  mayor,  but  the  latter  had  been  disposed 
to  receive  it  rather  incredulously.  Like  too  many 
aspirants  to  public  service,  he  liked  office  but  hated 
trouble,  and  so  far  the  coveted  muyorality  had  not 
brought  him  much  of  anything  else.  The  temper 
ance  agitators  would  not  let  him  alone,  but  kept  re 
minding  him  by  implication,  if  not  in  plainer  terms, 
of  his  unfulfilled  promises.  The  strike  had  added 
another  element  of  uneasiness  to  his  overflowing 
cup,  and  now  here  was  a  secret  society  of  Anarchists 
to  ferret  out.  It  is  a  disagreeable  necessity  to  have 
to  fight  one's  own  kith  and  kin.  Let  us  pity  Jack 
sonville's  unfortunate  mayor. 

"This  is  an  extraordinary  statement — most  extra 
ordinary  in  fact,"  he  said,  as  he  nervously  fingered 
his  watch-chain,  which  was  so  heavily  weighted  with 
the  various  mystic  insignia  of  the  different  secret 
orders  to  which  he  belonged  as  to  be  quite  a  marvel 
to  the  uninitiated.  He  was  a  little  man,  rather  fussy 
and  important,  the  sort  who  bustle  about  on  days  of 
processions  and  displays  as  if  in  their  native  ele 
ment,  but  are  mere  nonentities,  or  worse,  when  any 
sudden  crisis  calls  for  energetic  action.  "Of  course 
we  shall  look  into  this  matter,  but  we  can't  arrest 
without  knowing  the  place  of  meeting  or  the  names 
of  some  of  the  members.  I  don't  see  as  the  law  can 
do  much  till  they  actual!}'  commit  some  overt  act 
and  so  furnish  us  with  some  kind  of  a  clue." 

Whether  Schumacher  would  have  made  a  fuller 
revelation  had  death  delayed  the  stroke  a  moment 


Driven  Forth.  215 

longer  was  a  question  that  Nelson  never  quite  an 
swered  to  his  own  satisfaction.  To  know  that  such 
an  organization  existed  among  the  workmen,  and 
that  he  himself  was  one  of  the  predestined  victims, 
filled  him  not  so  much  with  emotions  of  personal 
fear  as  with  a  kind  of  horror  in  which  individual 
feelings  had  no  share.  No.  10  had  gone  before  a 
tribunal  where  all  secret  oaths  taken  in  darkness  and 
ignorance  are  null  and  void,  but  it  had  not  }*et  oc 
curred  to  him  to  wonder  who  would  take  the  place 
of  No.  10.  He  had  been  irritated  by  the  maj'or's 
want  of  backbone  on  the  liquor  question,  and  as  he 
started  for  the  door  could  not  forbear  giving  him 
this  one  sharp  thrust. 

"A  simultaneous  raid  on  all  the  unlicensed  liquor 
dens  of  Jacksonville  would,  in  my  opinion,  discover 
both  the  leaders  and  their  place  of  meeting  without 
waiting  for  some  life  to  be  sacrificed  first.  It  is  in 
these  dens  that  this  Socialist  mischief  is  brewed. 
The  screens  that  hide  one  iniquity  are  just  as  con 
venient  to  hide  another.  I  have  told  all  -I  know  in 
regard  to  this  matter,  and  now  it  remains  for  the 
authorities  to  act — and  act  promptly." 

Jacksonville's  chief  functionary  was  unused  to 
such  a  vigorous  style  of  address  from  a  common 
workman,  and  the  reader  will  not  probably  wonder 
that  he  did  not  like  it  over  much.  It  must  be  ac 
knowledged  that  Nelson  in  his  rough  garb  and  his 
stern,  rebuking  speech  might  have  passed  with  a 
very  little  stretch  of  fancy  on  the  mayor's  part  for 
an  incarnation  of  all  those  disturbing  social  qucs- 


216  Between    Two   Opinions. 

tions  which  nowadays  make  official  pathways  so  dis 
agreeably  thorny. 

Matthew  Densler  read  the  note  of  warning  which 
Nelson  contrived  to  dispatch  to  him  with  a  face  as 
imperturbable  as  if  it  had  been  a  report  on  the  con 
dition  of  the  money  market.  The  hard-handed  and 
hard-headed  millionaire  was  made  of  very  unimpres 
sionable  material,  and  shared  to  some  extent  that 
Napoleonic  belief  in  fate  which  is  rather  common  in 
men  who,  without  much  faith  in  the  guiding  hand  of 
a  higher  Power,  have  carved  out  their  own  destinies. 
If  it  was  his  fate  to  die  by  bullet  or  dynamite,  why, 
he  should,  and  nothing  could  avert  it.  It  was  dis 
agreeable  to  contemplate,  but  so  was  death  in  any 
form.  Meanwhile,  to  Matthew  Densler' s  shrewd 
mind,  trained  to  forecast  chances  in  the  financial 
world  to  a  hair's  breadth,  and  not  without  consider 
able  keenness  of  sight  at  reading  the  signs  of  the 
times  politically,  this  was  a  very  threatening  and 
dangerous  state  of  affairs.  Anarchy  was  in  the  air. 
This  discontent,  this  spirit  of  rebellion  and  revolt 
everywhere  meant  something — something  ominous, 
something  dread.  But  he  comforted  himself  as  did 
Hezekiah  of  old,  and  Louis  XIY.  in  more  modern 
times,  by  reflecting  that  the  social  earthquake  which 
these  things  portended  would  not  be  likely  to  come 
in  his  day.  And  then  he  took  ink  and  paper  and 
rapidly  wrote  two  checks,  each  for  a  considerable 
amount,  and  the  next  day  sent  them  to  the  families 
of  the  men  who  had  been  killed  in  the  riot. 

Martin  Treworthy,  when  he  heard  of  it,  only  shook 


Driven  Forth.  217 

his  grizzly  head  with  the  characteristic  remark, 
"He's  rung  truer  than  most  of  'em  would,  but  there's 
fire  under  all  this  smoke,  and  its  justice,  not  alms 
giving,  that's  going  to  put  it  out" 


CHAPTER  XVII 

KILKENNY    CATS. 

As  organized  secrecy  appeals  to  nearly  every  pas 
sion  of  the  human  heart,  it  is  not  strange  that  it 
should  draw  into  its  net  fish  of  every  kind.  With 
Schumacher  the  governing  idea  had  grown  to  be 
this:  that  the  laboring  classes  were  wronged,  that 
they  by  no  means  had  their  rightful  share  in  the  dis 
tribution  of  that  wealth  which  their  hands  created. 
And  as  the  best  wine  makes  the  sharpest  vinegar,  so 
that  constitutional  hatred  of  oppression  which  might 
under  other  circumstances  have  made  him  a  patriot, 
under  the  atheistic,  anti-republican  influence  of  the 
secret  lodge  system  made  him  a  conspirator.  For 
Mr.  Gerrish  we  cannot  say  as  much.  Born  and  bred 
in  the  Roman  Catholic  church,  his  rebound  from  its 
restraints  had  been  accompanied  by  a  fierce,  unreas 
oning  hate  of  all  law,  ecclesiastical  or  civil.  He 
possessed  naturally  the  qualities  for  a  conspirator, 
the  coolness,  the  adroitness,  the  mixture  of  boldness 
and  craft;  and  under  no  circumstances  would  he 
have  been  anything  else.  The  other  members  were 
chiefly  foreigners,  whose  future  labor  millennium 
was  a  social  revolution  in  which  all  property  lines 
should  be  obliterated,  all  obstructionists  destroyed, 
and  everybody  be  as  good  as  another. 


Kilkenny   Oats.  219 

Exactly  how  this  state  of  affairs  was  to  be  brought 
about  the}*  did  not  know,  but  they  had  great  faith  in 
what  their  leaders  told  them,  that  it  was  going  to  be 
accomplished  some  way,  and  they  were  not  of  a  class 
to  be  much  troubled  with  any  philosophic  or  moral 
doubts. 

The  tidings  of  Schumacher's  revelation  spread  like 
wild  fire.  Jacksonville  stood  aghast  at  this  discov 
ery  of  a  society  of  modern  Thugs  in  her  midst,  and 
very  reasonably;  but  is  it  possible  that  the  good 
people  who  talked  it  over  and  exclaimed,  "Awful! 
terrible!  What  is  the  world  coming  to!:'  were  ignor 
ant  of  the  fact  that  a  secret  order  comprising  half  a 
million  members  known  as  Free  and  Accepted  Ma 
sons,  scattered  over  the  country  and  meeting  nightly 
on  their  high  places,  were  bound  by  oath  to  obey 
every  summons  of  their  leaders,  and  shield  everv 
brother  right  or  wrong,  under  no  less  a  penalty  than 
throat-cutting,  disembowelling,  and  a  burial  in  the 
sea  at  frijA.  water-mark  where  the  tide  ebbs  and  flows 
once  in  twenty-four  hours? — oaths  of  which  that  un 
compromising  old  statesman,  John  Quincy  Adams, 
once  wrote  that  ua  cannibal  ought  to  be  ashamed?" 
But  as  we  happen  to  know  that  some  of  these  good 
people  had  taken  those  very  oaths  themselves,  while 
others  had  accepted  without  examination  the  witness 
of  friends  and  acquaintances  that  '-Masonry  is  a 
good  thing,"  the  theory  of  ignorance  is  not  exactly 
tenable,  and  we  can  only  find  a  reason  for  their  bit 
ter  denunciations  of  a  handful  of  Socialist  workmen 
who  were  only  putting  their  own  Masonic  principles 


220  Between  Two  Opinions. 

into  practice,  on  that  broad  and  general  ground  of 
human  inconsistency  which  accounts  for  so  many 
strange  things. 

The  order  of  the  Brothers  of  the  Red  Mark  was 
thrown  into  consternation.  They  could  not  be  sure 
how  much  or  how  little  was  known  to  the  authori 
ties.  But  one  thing  was  certain,  Nelson  Newhall 
was  with  Schumacher  in  his  last  moments,  and  soon 
after  he  had  suddenly  and  quietly  left  Jacksonville. 
The  warning  that  he  was  "spotted"  must  have  come 
from  No.  10;  but  death  had  stepped  between,  and 
all  the  vengeance  they  could  wreak  on  the  traitor 
was  to  pass  a  resolution,  when  they  next  met  in 
secret  conclave,  consigning  his  memory  to  everlast 
ing  disgrace  and  infamy  among  all  true  and  worthy 
brothers. 

The  meeting  was  a  stormy  and  excited  one — Pan 
demonium  on  a  small  scale.  Some  of  the  members 
had  really  shrank  with  horror  from  the  plans  of  the 
organization  as  slowly  unfolded  before  them,  but 
fear  of  the  consequences  should  they  divulge  any 
thing,  and  also  something  of  the  same  regard  for 
their  oath  that  Herod  felt  when  he  beheaded  John 
the  Baptist,  had  kept  them  quiet.  But  now  they 
saw  a  way  out.  And  so  the  brotherhood  was  broken 
up  into  two  separate  factions,  one  proposing  to  dis 
band  till  a  more  favorable  time  for  carrying  out 
their  peculiar  scheme  of  social  amelioration,  the 
other  denouncing  all  cessation  of  warfare  as  a  cow 
ardly  compromise  with  robber  capitalists  and 
moneyed  despots. 


Kilkenny  Cats.  221 

Some  of  these  poor  laborers  had  begun  to  realize 
in  dim  fashion  that  they  had  been  robbed  of  time, 
wages,  manhood,  and  self-respect;  that  the  conspir 
acy  against  society  into  which  they  had  been  in 
veigled  had  only  made  public  sentiment  their  enemy, 
and  now  threatened  to  turn  against  them  the  sword 
of  law;  and  furthermore,  that  all  this  mattered  very 
little  to  such  leaders  as  Mr.  Patrick  Gerrish,  whose 
chief  concern  at  this  critical  juncture  appeared  to  be 
concentrated  on  the  one  point  of  escaping  himself 
out  of  the  imbroglio  with  a  whole  skin.  Re3'nolds, 
to  do  him  justice,  had  been  to  a  certain  degree  sin 
cere  in  his  advocac}'  of  the  laborer's  rights.  He  had 
acted  the  part  of  a  sycophant  and  a  toady,  but,  as 
we  have  seen,  not  without  some  stormy  interludes 
between  him  and  his  chief. 

But  we  will  give  the  reader  for  another,  and,  we 
are  happy  to  add,  the  last  time,  a  free  ticket  of  ad 
mission  into  the  beer  saloon  which  was  their  chosen 
place  of  meeting. 

"Brothers  of  the  Red  Mark,"  shouted  No.  5,  a 
fiery  little  German  radical,  the  power  of  whose  lungs 
seemed  to  be  in  inverse  ratio  to  his  size;  "the  tocsin 
of  liberty  shall  one  day  resound  through  the  length 
and  breadth  of  the  land,  and  the  banners  of  the 
Social  Revolution  be  planted  on  every  church  and 
public  building.  Let  us  bide  our  time,  but  keep  to 
our  motto:  Down  with  tyrant  capitalists,  down  with 
priestcraft;  down  with  law,  down  with  government 
— they  are  allies  of  both;  but  in  secret  let  us  agitate, 
organize,  plan,  till  the  time  is  ripe  for  open  revolt 


222  Between   Two   Opinions. 

All  who  counsel  submission  are  traitors,  and  ought 
to  be  treated  as  traitors." 

This  speech  of  No.  5,  delivered  with  a  foreign  ac 
cent  which  we  have  not  tried  to  reproduce,  caused  a 
most  uproarious  and  tumultuous  scene  between  the 
opposing  factions,  one  side  feeling  themselves  per 
sonally  branded  with  this  opprobrious  title,  the 
other  taunting  them  with  its  justice  till  fierce  re 
criminations,  dire  threats  and  shaking  of  fists,  added 
to  too  much  liquor  in  their  brains,  culminated  at 
last  in  a  free  fight. 

The  unpleasant  passage  between  the  two  leaders 
mentioned  in  a  former  chapter  had  caused  a  breach 
which  was  not  healed  over.  Reynolds  feared  Ger- 
rish;  G-errish  distrusted  Reynolds.  The  latter  had 
outwardly  acquiesced  in  the  plan  of  the  formes  for 
ending  the  strike  by  arbitration,  but  reflection  con 
vinced  even  his  rather  obtuse  mind  of  two  facts. 
While  he  himself  had  not  the  smallest  hope  of  being 
reinstated  in  his  old  place,  and  was  therefore  inter 
ested  to  have  the  strike  continue  as  long  as  possible, 
the  case  with  the  other  one  was  widely  different. 
That  gentleman  was,  as  we  have  stated  before,  a 
labor  agitator  by  profession.  It  was  his  usual  policy 
to  stay  long  enough  in  a  place  to  stir  up  all  the 
trouble  he  could  between  workmen  and  their  em 
ployers,  but  never  to  prolong  a  strike  beyond  the 
point  when  it  ceased  to  be  for  his  personal  advan 
tage  to  do  so. 

On  the  whole  Reynolds  had  some  reason  to  feel 
dissatisfied  with  his  reward  for  the  cat's-paw  part  he 


Kilkenny  Cats.  223 

had  played,  and  in  the  contest  he  now  took  sides 
with  the  opposite  faction  and  boldly  accused  his 
quondam  leader  with  a  cowardly  desertion  of  their 
cause.  Gerrish  retorted  with  laconic  sarcasm. 

"Look  out,''  answered  Reynolds,  angrily.  "I  can 
tell  a  story  that  would  send  you  to  the  gallows." 

Perhaps  there  was  more  swagger  than  real  truth 
in  this  statement,  but  to  a  man  conscious  that  his 
past  life  had  been  *ull  of  ugly  episodes,  the  threat 
could  not  fail  tc  have  a  disagreeable  sound. 

"Liar!"  hissed  the  one. 

"Traitor!"  thundered  the  other. 

And  in  the  confusion,  nobody  saw  just  when  or 
how,  Gerrish  gave  Reynolds  a  deadly  stab.  He 
managed  to  stagger  out  into  the  street  with  a  cry  of 
murder  which  brought  the  police  to  the  spot.  They 
made  a  few  arrests,  which  did  not,  however,  include 
the  principal  actor  in  the  tragedy. 

At  this  point,  very  much  to  our  relief,  and  doubt 
less  to  our  readers,  Mr.  Patrick  Gerrish  fades  from 
our  story.  At  present  he  figures  as  an  Irish  dyna 
miter,  a  line  of  business  for  which  his  talents  pecul 
iarly  fit  him. 

And  so  the  Brotherhood  gave  up  the  ghost  in  a 
drunken  brawl  and  was  heard  of  no  more.  And  as 
the  Grand  Union  refused  to  sustain  the  strike  any 
longer,  the  deceived  and  betrayed  workmen  were 
only  too  glad  to  resume  work  at  the  former  prices. 

Stephen  Rowland  sent  a  copy  of  the  Jacksonville 
Patriot  to  the  old  couple  who  were  thinking  of  him 
and  praying  for  him  in  that  far-off  village  among 


224  Between   Two   Opinions. 

the  New  Hampshire  hills,  with  a  lengthy  article  in 
it  bearing  these  headlines:  STARTLING  REVELATIONS! 
A  secret  society  of  Ku  Klux  among  the  laborers  un 
earthed  by  a  murder  in  a  saloon.  A  manufacturer  and 
a  young  workman  on  the  marked  list.  The  latter 
leaves  the  place  to  save  his  life. 

"Jacksonville  must  be  awfully  wicked,"  observed 
Mr.  Josiah  Rowland,  after  reading  it  over  carefully 
to  his  wife  who  heard  it  in  silence.  "I  kinder  wish 
Stephen  could  have  made  up  his  mind  to  stay  East. 

Mrs.  Phoebe,  in  her  mother's  yearning  after  her 
first  born,  had  often  been  tempted  to  wish  the  same 
thing,  but  she  always  changed  it  to  a  prayer:  "De 
liver  him,  0  Lord,  from  the  temptation  that  is  about 
him,  and  bring  him  safe  into  thy  heavenly  king 
dom."  So  she  only  answered,  quietly: 

"Well,  I  don't  know,  father.  If  the  Lord  lead 
him  there  it  must  be  for  some  good  purpose.  Let 
us  wait  and  see." 

Mrs.  Phoebe's  whole  life  was  a  blessed  waiting 
time.  She  loved,  and  prayed,  and  worked;  and 
when  she  reached  the  limit  of  the  possible  in  human 
action,  she  let  the  threads  go  without  a  careful  or 
anxious  thought.  She  had  done  her  part.  Another 
would  perfect  the  web. 

"All  this  agitating,  and  shaking,  and  overturning, 
only  seems  to  me  like  one  of  the  signs  of  the  end," 
she  added.  "Men's  hearts  failing  them  for  fear  and 
for  looking  for  those  things  which  shall  come  upon 
the  earth." 

For  Mrs.   Phoebe,  to  a   New   England   matron's 


Kilkenny   Cats.  225 

clearness  of  mind  and  keen  grasp  of  all  common, 
every-day  subjects,  added  a  mystical  side — a  delight 
in  the  mysterious,  the  sublime,  the  incomprehens 
ible.  And  it  was  in  keeping  with  this  part  of  her 
nature  that  she  should  joy  in  the  thought  of  the  Sec 
ond  Advent,  and  see  in  all  the  portentous  signs  of 
the  political  and  social  heavens  but  the  omens  of  His 
near  approach  who  will  judge  the  earth  in  righteous 
ness,  and  whose  coming  will  be  with  burning  and 
fuel  of  fire. 

"I  can't  see,"  said  Mr.  Josiah  Rowland,  "why  peo 
ple  are  not  more  awake  to  the  dangers  of  secret 
societies.  Mason  and  Odd-fellow  and  G-ood  Tem 
plar's  lodges  are  fairl}'  eating  out  the  life  of  the 
churches.  I've  been  seeing  it  this  good  while  though 
I  hain't  said  much,  not  perhaps  as  much  as  I  ought 
to.  We  wonder  there  ain:t  no  revivals,  and  we  labor 
and  pray,  and  have  meetings,  and  try  to  get  up  an 
interest — only  to  have  the  lodge  steal  away  our  con 
verts.  'If  such  things  are  done  in  a  green  tree,  what 
shall  be  done  in  the  dry?'  If  ministers  see  no  harm 
in  secret  societies,  why  should  ignorant  working- 
men?  I  take  it  that  the  church  must  be  purified 
first  before  the  world  will  grow  much  better." 

"  'And  if  the  salt  have  lost  its  savor,  wherewith 
shall  it  be  seasoned,' "  softly  repeated  Mrs.  Phrebe 
Rowland. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

NABOTH. 

Despite  Nelson's  fears,  Martin  Treworthy  did  not 
find  Tom  a  troublesome  charge.  He  was  as  ready 
to  be  amused  as  a  child,  and  gentle  even  in  his  rare 
fits  of  refractoriness.  Sometimes  he  would  take 
strange  whims  into  his  head,  but  they  were  usually 
of  a  harmless  sort.  Nelson  had  always  managed 
him  easily,  and  Martin,  from  being  so  much  with 
him  during  his  sickness,  had  gained  an  influence 
over  him  only  second  to  his  brother's. 

Martha,  true  to  her  promise,  allowed  scarcely  a 
day  to  pass  without  looking  in  upon  the  two,  and 
bringing  some  little  delicacy  to  tempt  the  invalid's 
rather  feeble  and  capricious  appetite. 

"Mr.  Tre worthy,"  she  said  on  one  of  these  occa 
sions,  as  she  placed  on  the  table  the  bowl  of  sage 
broth  she  had  brought,  and  looked  up  into  his  rough, 
kindly  face,  with  her  clear,  earnest  eyes,  "I  have  al 
ways  told  Nelson  I  would  help  him  keep  the  promise 
he  made  his  mother  to  take  care  of  Tom — that  I 
neve'r  would  think  of  him  as  a  burden,  or  to  be 
ashamed  of  in  any  way,  but  love  him  and  do  for 
him  as  if  I  was  his  very  own  sister.  And  I  am  glad 
I  can  begin  now." 

If  Martin  Treworthy  had  spoken  his  exact  thought 


Naboth,  227 

just  then,  it  would  have  been  to  say  that  at  last  he 
had  seen  'the  woman  whom  he  deemed  fit  to  clasp 
hands  as  a  peer  and  equal  with  her  who  was  sleep 
ing  in  her  maiden  beauty  under  the  prairie  roses. 
But  he  had  been  trained  in  a  school  of  knighthood 
that  was  prolific  in  deeds  by  which  to  prove  its  chiv 
alry  and  ver}'  sparing  in  words. 

So  he  only  said,  as  he  emptied  the  broth  into  a 
tin  kettle  and  set  it  on  the  stove — competent  house 
keeper  as  he  was  in  his  small  domain — 

"It  ain't  one  woman  in  ten  thousand  that  would 
come  up  to  the  mark  like  that,  though  I  needn't  tell 
you  of  it — you  know  it  as  well  as  I  do.  But  now," 
he  added,  answering  the  mute  inquiry  in  Martha's 
face,  "we  needn't  expect  to  hear  from  Nelson  yet 
awhile.  He  won't  want  to  write  till  he  finds  a  place 
and  has  something  to  write  about.  I  don't  think  his 
going  away  was  a  mistake.  Maybe  there  wouldn't 
be  an}'  danger  now  in  his  coming  back,  and  maybe 
there  would.  To  my  mind  there's  no  saying  about 
that.  Matters  are  quiet  now,  and  it  don't  look  as  if 
there  was  going  to  be  any  more  trouble.  But  we 
can't  tell.  He  has  roused  a  double  enemy — a  snake 
with  two  heads.  The  saloon  men  don't  forget  what 
he  did  last  fall,  and  when  they  owe  a  grudge  they 
know  how  to  stir  up  the  evil  passions  that  are  in 
human  nature  nearly  as  well  as  the  lodge  knows 
how  to  plot  to  carry  them  out.  He's  stayed  long 
enough  in  Jacksonville — that's  my  opinion.  The 
Lord  didn't  make  man  as  he  did  the  trees  and  vege 
tables,  to  stay  in  one  place  all  the  time.  It  will  do 


228  Between  Two   Opinions. 

him  good  to  get  away  for  awhile  and  enlarge  his 
ideas  a  trifle.  They'll  bear  it.  He  don't  know 
everything  yet." 

At  the  very  moment  when  Martin  Treworthy  was 
pronouncing  this  dictum,  Nelson,  in  a  small  river 
town  about  forty  miles  distant,  was  "enlarging  his 
ideas"  very  considerably  on  one  or  two  important 
subjects — a  process  that  is  sometimes  a  disagreeable 
and  painful  one,  like  cutting  teeth,  especially  when 
it  involves  some  matter  about  which  we  have  hereto 
fore  obstinately  refused  to  be  enlightened. 

He  had  not  left  Jacksonville  without  a  definite 
plan  in  his  head — a  plan  he  had  thought  of  before, 
and  which  only  the  seeming  impossibility  of  leaving 
Tom  for  a  sufficient  length  of  time  had  prevented 
him  from  carrying  into  execution.  The  spring  was 
opening,  the  sap  was  beginning  to  stir  in  the  trees 
and  patches  of  green  to  show  by  the  wayside.  He 
would  hire  out  on  a  farm  for  the  summer,  and  make 
such  arrangements  as  would  permit  him  to  have 
Tom  with  him.  The  country  air  and  country  living 
would  be  better  than  doctor's  drugs,  or  even  Martin 
Tre worthy's  treasury  of  roots  and  herbs.  On  the 
whole  he  might  have  rather  enjoyed  this  unexpected 
opportunity  to  pursue  a  course  he  had  so  often  had 
in  mind  if  it  had  not  seemed  to  his  brave  nature  too 
much  like  a  cowardly  flight.  But  how  could  he 
keep  the  promise  made  to  his  dying  mother  unless 
he  guarded  the  life  so  precious  to  Tom?  He  knew 
too  well  the  bitter  hatred  felt  by  many  of  the 
workmen — a  hatred  which  had  its  basis  in  igno- 


Naboth.  229 

ranee,  and  as  Martin  Tre worthy  truly  conjectured, 
had  been  fostered  and  fed  in  low  liquor  saloons 
whose  proprietors  kept  the  fact  in  remembrance  that 
Nelson's  prompt  and  successful  proceedings  against 
Snyder  was  the  first  shell  fired  into  their  camp,  the 
initial  step  in  the  warfare  that  was  now  threatening 
their  destruction. 

The  conversation  which  was  having  this  satisfac 
tory  effect  on  Nelson's  ideas,  he  was  holding  with  a 
man  dressed  in  blue  jean  trousers  tucked  into  boots 
that  were  a  marvel  of  the  cordwainer's  art.  His 
hair,  which  was  abundant  though  much  streaked 
with  gray,  he  wore  long;  his  beard  was  likewise  of 
patriarchal  length,  but  bore  marks  of  careful  trim 
ming.  Indeed,  there  was  about  his  whole  dress  and 
person  a  singular  mixture  of  neatness  and  slovenli 
ness,  carelessness  and  refinement;  and  his  speech 
was  something  on  the  same  order,  for  while  strongly 
seasoned  with  the  rustic  patois  of  the  southwest,  he 
was  evidentl}-  a  man  who  had  at  least  the  rudiments 
of  education,  and  when  he  thought  it  worth  the  trou 
ble  could  express  himself  in  good  grammatical  Eng 
lish. 

The  surroundings  were  in  keeping:  the  four  walls 
of  a  rough  cabin;  a  rifle,  with  powder,  shot  and 
gamebag  stacked  in  one  corner;  a  rude  bed  made  of 
leaves;  a  table  which  was  nothing  but  a  board  laid 
over  a  flour-barrel;  a  rusty  stove,  a  teakettle,  a  skil 
let,  and  much  unclassified  rubbish,  completed  a  pic 
ture  to  which  Martin  Tre  worthy's  hermitage  was  the 
height  of  civilization. 


230  Between  Two  Opinions. 

"Come  from  fur  away,  did  ye,  stranger?" 

"Not  from  outside  the  State,"  answered  Nelson, 
indirectly. 

"Wall,  ye  look  honest  enough,"  continued  the  man, 
eying  him  with  a  scrutinizing  glance,  "but  for  all  I 
know  ye  may  be  the  biggest  rogue  in  these  parts." 

"And  for  all  /  know  you  may  be  the  captain  of 
some  robber  gang  who  make  your  cabin  their  head 
quarters,"  retorted  Nelson,  coolly.  "I  am  not  sure 
as  it  is  safe  for  me  to  stand  here  talking  with  you." 

The  man  burst  into  a  horse  laugh,  evidently  de 
lighted  with  this  prompt  payment  in  his  own  coin. 
And  then  he  sobered  suddenly;  a  fierce,  vindictive 
glitter  came  into  his  gray  eyes,  and  a  singular  look 
overspread  his  whole  face. 

"I  say,  stranger,  did  ye  ever  read  the  story  of 
Naboth?" 

"Yes,"  was  Nelson's  answer  to  this  abrupt  and 
rather  startling  question.  "Why  do  you  ask?" 

"Because  there's  a  right  smart  heap  of  Naboths 
in  the  world,"  was  the  laconic  reply. 

Nelson  saw  he  had  hold  of  un  odd  character. 

"I  am  sorry  if  it  is  so,"  he  said,  eying  his  inter 
locutor  rather  curiously,  "for  that  would  seem  to 
prove  that  there  must  be  a  good  many  Ahabs  in  the 
world,  and  I  want  to  think  better  of  human  nature." 

"Maybe  you  want  to  think  better  of  it  than  the 
Lord  does,"  responded  the  other,  shortly.  "You  see 
I'm  one  of  the  Naboths." 

"That's  bad,"  said  Nelson;  "but  it  would  be  a 
great  deal  worse  to  be  on  the  other  side." 


Naboth.  231 

"I  reckon  you  are  about  right,  stranger,"  said  the 
man,  giving  Nelson  another  scrutinizing  look.  "Now 
if  you'll  excuse  me  for  'quiriu',  Be}*ou  a  Mason?" 

Nelson  replied  in  the  negative,  and  he  went  on, 
talking  in  a  rapid,  excited  fashion. 

"Then  I'll  tell  you  my  story.  My  name  is  Jesse 
Dukes;  I  was  born  and  raised  in  Tennessee.  I  come 
here  and  I  bought  a  farm — two  hundred  acres  of 
good  bottom  land,  the  best  there  was  in  the  county. 
I  paid  down  my  money  in  good  faith,  hard  cash,  and 
then  it  turned  out  that  there  was  something  wrong 
about  the  papers.  Ahab  wanted  my  vineyard  and 
he  got  it.  My  wife  was  sickly  and  the  worry  killed 
her.  Our  two  boys  we  buried  before  we  left  Ten 
nessee.  I  lost  heart.  I  didn't  care  for  an}'thing. 
I  don't  now,  only  to  come  across  the  rascal  that 
swindled  me  out  of  all  I  had  in  the  world  just  once" 
— and  he  clenched  his  hard  hand — "see  if  I  wouldn't 
give  him  his  deserts,  law  or  no  law,  for  he  won't 
never  get  'em  any  other  way.  I  made  a  hard  fight, 
and  if  it  could  only  have  been  a  fair  fight — but  he 
was  a  Mason,  a  high  Mason,  and  the  lawyers  were 
Masons,  and  so  was  most  of  the  jury  and  the  very 
judge  on  the  bench.  And  it  was  all  a  gone  case 
from  the  start.  Now  3*ou'll  'low,  stranger,  that  must 
ha'  come  mighty  hard  on  a  man." 

Nelson  had  heard  Martin  Treworthy  relate  such 
instances  of  Masonic  justice  in  our  courts  of  law, 
but  it  was  another  thing  to  stand  face  to  face  with 
one  who  had  felt  the  iron  enter  into  his  soul,  and 
hear  him  tell  the  tale. 


232  Between  Two   Opinions. 

"Indeed  it  was  hard,"  he  said.  "And  more  than 
that — it  was  iniquitous." 

Mr.  Dukes  went  on. 

"You  was  inquirin',  stranger,  if  this  was  a  no- 
license  town.  Wall,  lawfully  nobody  kin  sell  a  drop, 
but  bless  yer  soul,  what's  law  to  a  man  that  by  jest 
raisin'  his  Hands  to  his  head  and  lettin'  'em  drop 
down  agin  by  his  side  so" — and  Mr.  Dukes  went 
through  a  pantomimic  representation  of  a  Mason  in 
distressed  circumstances  appealing  to  a  lodge  bro 
ther — "kin  put  every  constable  on  the  wrong  scent. 
Now  I  was  raised  among  the  mountains  where  they 
manufactur'd  a  smart  lot  of  moonshine  whisky. 
Nigh  every  one  among  the  farmers  was  in  the  busi 
ness,  or  else  knew  consider' ble  about  it.  They  had 
their  secret  oaths  and  grips  and  false  names  to  call 
each  other  by;  and  they  jest  defied  all  guv'nment 
could  do  to  break  'em  up.  Our  nighest.  neighbor, 
Colonel  Barker,  was  head  of  the  gang,  and  he  was 
Deputy  United  States  Marshal;  and  of  his  two  right- 
hand  men,  one  was  Moses  Kittle,  a  deacon  in  the 
church,  and  the  other  was  Marion  Hawkins,  circuit 
judge.  When  there  was  any  arrests  made,  there  was 
the  jury  made  up  of  Masons  and  members  of  the 
gang,  and  Hawkins  himself  on  the  bench,  and  in 
course  they'd  be  discharged." 

Rejected  truths  have  a  curious  faculty  of  bewild 
ering  us  by  their  sudden  reappearance  in  all  manner 
of  unexpected  ways  and  places.  Nelson  had  stub 
bornly  shut  his  eyes  to  the  fact  that  there  could  ex 
ist  any  such  alliance  offensive  and  defensive  between 


Naboth.  233 

Masonry  and  the  liquor  traffic.  He  had  said  with 
thousands  of  unthinking  prohibitionists,  "The  lodge 
and  the  dramshop  are  separate  issues,"  and  refused 
to  believe  that  the}'  were  in  reality  Siamese  twins. 
But  if  one  could  so  successfully  protect  the  other  in 
a  lonely  mountain  region  of  Tennessee,  why  not  in 
Jacksonville?  why  not  anywhere  else? 

Jesse  Dukes  was  a  true  mountaineer.  He  had 
that  spirit  of  retaliation  and  vindictiveness  which 
has  made  his  race  famous  in  the  history  of  family 
and  border  feuds;  he  had  also  their  gracious  in 
stincts  of  hospitality  as  shown  by  the  way  in  which  he 
pressed  Nelson  to  come  in  and  share  his  humble  fare 
and  lodgings.  The  latter  was  much  too  hungry  to 
refuse  the  first,  which  he  found  excellent;  and  too 
weary  not  to  be  able  to  put  up  with  the  latter,  in 
spite  of  the  utter  lack  of  all  civilized  appliances: 
and  naturally  he  improved  the  opportunity  to  learn 
more  about  his  host. 

On  losing  his  property,  Dukes  had  taken  up  the 
trade  of  a  trapper  and  built  him  a  rude  cabin  by  the 
edge  of  the  river,  and  while  he  attended  to  his  traps, 
or  smoked  his  pipe  in  his  low  cabin  door  through 
the  long,  dreamy,  summer  afternoons,  he  nursed  in 
his  heart  dreams  of  vengeance.  This  modern  Na 
both  was  by  no  means  an  ideal  Christian,  who  could 
forgive  until  seventy  times  seven;  on  the  contrary 
he  was  a  very  good  specimen  of  an  unregenerate 
man.  For  the  lodge  under  whose  protecting  shield 
he  nad  been  swindled  out  of  his  all  he  cherished 
that  feeling  of  sullen,  helpless  wrath  with  which 


234  Between  Two   Opinions'. 

wronged  and  outraged  men  regard  institutions  too 
powerful  for  them  to  combat,  and  on  which  they  can 
only  heap  smothered  curses. 

Seated  by  the  fire  after  they  had  eaten  their 
homely  supper,  for  the  evening  had  closed  in  chill 
and  frost}*,  Jesse  Dukes  entertained  his  guest  with 
a  series  of  anecdotes,  showing  the  singular  majesty 
of  the  law  under  Masonic  rule. 

"I  'member  now  a  treasurer  in  a  bank,  a  high 
Mason,  that  spekilated  with  the  bank's  money  to  the 
tune  of  thirty  thousand  dollars,"  he  said,  while  the 
dim  light  played  over  his  features  and  threw  the 
corners  of  the  cabin  into  deeper  shadow,  giving  a 
Rembrandt-like  touch  to  both.  "Wai,  they  'rested 
him  and  put  him  under  bonds  for  trial.  One  o'  the 
bondsmen  was  a  high  Mason,  too,  and  doggoned  ef 
the  sneakin'  varmint  didn't  contrive  to  put  all  his 
property  out  of  his  hands,  so  that  when  the  treas 
urer  took  leg-bail  and  run  off  to  Canady,  he  didn't 
hev  to  fork  over  a  red  cent;  the  rest  hed  to  pay  it 
all.  One  on  'em  it  completely  ruined — that  was  my 
old  neighbor,  Ben  Barksdill.  Jist  cleaned  him  out 
of  everything  he  hed.  Ben  was  a  stout,  strong  man, 
but  he  was  too  far  along  in  life  to  ever  reckon  on 
scrapin'  enough  together  to  git  back  the  home  and 
the  farm  all  clear  of  incumbrance  that  hed  to  go  un 
der  the  hammer  afore  he  could  pay  his  part  o'  the 
surety.  Arter  that  happened  he  sorter  went  inter  a 
decline  and  died.  The  doctors  called  his  diseasejDy 
one  of  their  larn'd  names,  but  they  needn't  tell  me. 
I  watched  with  him  the  night  he  died,  and  I  tell  ye, 


Naboth.  235 

• 

stranger,  that  man  died  of  a  broken  heart  A  few 
years  afterward  the  treasurer  come  back  spick  and 
span  and  smilin',  and  the  justices  let  him  go  free — 
never  laid  a  finger  on  him.  But  they  took  up  a 
poor  boy  that  never  had  any  eddication  or  bringin' 
up  whatsomever,  and  sent  him  to  jail  for  five  years 
jist  for  stealin'  an  old  watch;  and  it  wa'n't  re'ly 
proved  agin  him,  nuther. 

"And  I  'member  a  case  meaner  nor  that  of  a  man 
that  was  treasurer  for  a  town,  and  stole  a  right 
smart  lot  o'  the  town's  money.  He  was  a  Mason, 
and  what  should  he  do  but  go  out  to  the  barn,  git  a 
rope  and  tie  himself  up,  so's  to  make  it  appear  as  if 
it  was  all  the  work  of  robbers.  He  made  up  a  good 
story,  a  re'l  thrillin'  one,  fit  to  go  inter  a  novel,  and 
some  believed  it  and  some  didn't.  When  the  case 
come  to  trial,  the  sheriff,  right  afore  judge  and  jury, 
took  a  piece  of  rope  and  tied  his  own  hands  in  ex 
actly  the  same  kind  o'  knots,  and  showed  the  court 
jist  how  easy  it  could  be  done.  Now  what  would  a 
been  your  verdict,  stranger,  ef  }Tou'd  been  sittin'  on 
that  ar  jury?" 

"I  don't  see  but  one  conclusion,  Mr.  Dukes,"  said 
Nelson.  "I  should  think  no  better  proof  could  have 
been  given  that  the  treasurer  stole  the  monev  him 
self  and  hit  on  this  ingenious  plan  to  evade  detec 
tion.  He  certainly  was  not  acquitted?" 

"He  sartinly  was,  stranger,  with  all  that  evidence 
right  afore  'em.  And  I  kin  tell  you  of  meaner 
things  nor  that.  We  hed  some  onpleasantness  at  a 
'lection,  and  Dick  Mosely,  a  sand}--haired  chap  that 


236  Between  Two   Opinions. 

never  happened  to  hev  jined  the  lodge,  got  mixed  up 
in  the  fracas,  and  was  'rested  on  the  charge  of  flour- 
ishin'  a  revolver  round  a  leetle  too  promiskus  like. 
He  swore  he  didn't  hev  one  about  him,  others  swore 
he  did,  and  he  was  sent  up  for  four  years.  And  not 
long  aterward  a  feller  that  was  a  Mason  picked  a 
quarrel  with  a  man  he  hed  a  grudge  aginst,  whipped 
out  his  revolver  and  fired,  jist  barely  missin'  his 
head,  and  the  court  fined  him  ten  dollars. 

"And  1  kin  tell  you  meaner  things  nor  that,"  con 
tinued  Jesse  Dukes,  taking  up  his  climacteric  re 
frain.  "I  know'd  a  Masonic  sheriff  that  was  sent  to 
'rest  a  man  on  a  double  charge  of  forgery  and  big 
amy,  but  he  kept  puttin'  it  off  till  the  raskill  made 
tracks  for  Mexico.  Now  I  want  to  tell  ye  how  that 
same  sheriff  did  by  poor  Job  Muzzy.  Doggoned  ef 
it  don't  rile  me  up  when  I  git  to  thinkin'  on't.  Job 
was  as  honest  a  feller  as  ever  breathed,  but  he'd 
been  unfortunit — sickness  in  his  family,  and  then  he 
wa'n't  re'ly  one  o'  the  forehanded  sort,  he  nor  his 
pap  afore.  But  he  did  one  thing  and  another — 
teamed  some  and  so  managed  to  rub  along.  I  come 
across  him  one  morning,  and  he  seemed  oncommon- 
ly  chipper.  'I'm  goin'  off  to  work  at  lumberin','  sez 
he,  'for  awhile.  I've  jist  bought  a  wagon,  and  I've 
mortgaged  m}^  hosses  as  part  payment  on't,  and  I'm 
kalkerlatin'  to  make  a  fresh  start  in  the  spring,' 
And  he  spoke  of  how  he  hated  to  loave  his  family, 
and  his  little  gal  in  perticler.  He  was  jist  bound 
up  in  that  child,  Lil  her  name  was,  and  no  wonder, 
for  she  was  the  cutest,  peartest  thing;  and  I  'mem- 


Naboth.  237 

ber  while  we  stood  there  a  talkin',  her  a  runnin'  out 
in  her  white  sunbunnit  and  her  curly  hair,  yaller  as 
gold,  callin'  'pappy'  in  her  putty  baby  way.  Job 
went  off  tellin'  everybody  the  same  straight  story 
that  he  told  to  me,  and  what  did  that  Masonic  sher 
iff  do  but  send  a  special  deputy  arter  him  to  bring 
him  back  on  pretense  that  he  was  goin'  off  to  evade 
pay  in'  the  debt,  and  lodge  him  in  jail  where  he  lay 
three  or  four  weeks  without  the  shader  of  prgof  agin 
him.  And  that  wa'n't  the  wust  on't.  While  he  was 
there  in  jail  his  little  Lil  took  sick  and  died,  aery  in' 
in  her  last  minutes  for  her  pappy.  And  they  sed  it 
was  enough  to  melt  a  stone  to  hear  poor  Job  Muzzy 
take  on  when  he  come  out,  and  found  only  a  little 
grave  and  one  of  her  yaller  curls  left  him  of  his  dar- 
lin'.  I  tell  ye,  stranger,  things  like  them  burn  inter 
a  man's  heart.  I  ain't  a  Christian,  nor  one  that's 
hed  much  schoolin',  but  I  kin  read  and  I  kin  think, 
and  I  know  that  in  the  Book  they  swear  on  in  every 
court  room  there  are  heaps  of  sich  texts  as  this: 
'Woe  to  them  that  decree  unrighteous  decrees  to 
turn  aside  the  needy  from  judgment,  and  to  take 
away  the  right  from  the  poor.'  And  it's  better  than 
meat  and  drink  to  me  to  read  them  ar  passages  and 
think  the  Lord  Almighty  has  got  a  day  of  reckoning 
eomin'." 

And  the  trapper's  eyes  kindled  with  a  fierce,  sin 
ister  gleam,  as  if  already  his  imagination  saw  that 
day  dawning.  This  rough  mountaineer,  sitting  in 
his  lonely  cabin  and  pouring  forth  his  terrible  in 
dictments  of  that  Secret  Empire  which  holds  in  its 
7^^  0?  ":' 

%FI7I 


238  Between  Two  Opinions. 

invisible  clutches  the  life  and  property  of  American 
citizens,  seemed  like  a  confirming  angel  who  had 
suddenly  started  up  to  bear  witness  to  the  truth 
which  from  Martin  Tre worthy's  lips  Nelson  had  so 
often  treated  with  that  apathetic  indifference  which 
is  more  than  half  skepticism. 

It  was  in  Jesse  Dukes'  cabin  that  he  wrote  his 
first  letter  after  his  flight  from  Jacksonville,  but 
through  some  unfortunate  accident  it  was  delayed, 
and  Martha,  in  the  lack  of  all  tidings  from  her  be 
trothed,  began  to  feel  an  anxiety  secretly  shared  by 
Martin  Treworthy,  to  whom  Nelson  was  as  the  son 
of  his  old  age. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE    GOOD    SAMARITAN. 

Tom's  idea  that  Nelson  had  gone  to  buy  the  much 
talked-of  farm  proved  at  first  very  convenient.  It 
kept  him  in  a  child's  state  of  amused  expectancy, 
but  like  a  child  his  feeble  mind  soon  grew  impatient 
at  the  delay,  and  a  deep-seated  longing  after  the  one 
human  being  who  had  loved  and  cared  for  him  with 
a  self-sacrificing  devotion  more  motherly  than  fra 
ternal  took  possession  of  his  soul.  Hour  after  hour 
he  would  sit  gazing  dully  into  vacancy,  but  there 
were  other  times,  as  we  have  before  stated,  when  he 
took  into  his  head  the  strangest  and  most  unaccount 
able  freaks;  really  periods  of  semi-derangement 
when  his  weak  brain  became  the  prey  of  some  crazy 
fancy,  the  pursuit  of  which  seemed  to  have  the  effect 
for  the  time  being  of  wakening  it  into  an  abnormal 
activity. 

There  had  been  of  late  a  very  decided  improve 
ment,  so  that  even  Martin  Treworthy,  who  knew  so 
well  the  deceitful  nature  of  his  disease,  could  not 
believe  that  in  spite  of  his  apparent  increase  in 
strength  he  was  actually  failing.  But  after  Nelson 
went  away  he  began  to  pine — but  so  imperceptibly 
that  the  fact  was  not  realized  by  his  two  friends  and 


240  Between    Two   Opinions. 

watchers.  He  would  eat  a  few  mouthfuls  of  Mar 
tha's  carefully  prepared  jellies  and  broths,  and  then, 
with  the  caprice  of  the  consumptive  invalid,  want  no 
more,  but  he  refused  no  medicine  however  nauseous, 
and  his  great,  blue,  vacant  eyes  kept  fast  the  secret 
of  that  longing  which  was  consuming  his  life's 
already  flickering  taper. 

He  liked  and  was  even  fond  of  Martin  Trewortlry, 
but  he  had  something  of  the  instinct  which  leads  an 
animal  to  forsake  new  and  strange  quarters  from 
which  it  misses  the  familiar  hand  that  has  always 
fed  it.  One  thought  he  brooded  over,  but  concealed 
with  a  cunning  he  only  showed  when  one  of  these 
half-insane  fits  was  on  him:  and  that  was  to  steal 
away  and  find  Nelson. 

There  came  a  warm,  almost  summer-like  after 
noon  when  Martin  T  re  worthy  ventured  to  leave  his 
charge,  as  he  supposed,  quietly  sleeping.  The  south 
wind,  the  sunshine,  and  the  scents  of  early  spring 
stealing  in  through  the  half-closed  door,  combined 
to  excite  more  than  ever  Tom's  restless  notion  to 

• 

wander  off;  and  with  many  furtive  glances  to  the 
right  and  left  to  make  sure  that  he  was  not  watched 
and  followed,  he  opened  the  door  still  wider,  and 
stole  out  with  noiseless  footfall  and  heart  as  exult 
ant  as  the  child's  who  sets  out  to  run  after  the  rain 
bow.  The  world  was  wide,  but  Nelson  was  some 
where  in  it,  and  if  he  walked  on  and  on — poor 
Tom's  fancj~  made  no  more  allowance  for  possible 
obstacles  than  the  minds  of  other  dreamers — he 
should  certainly  find  him. 


The  Good  Samaritan.  241 

The  fever  that  was  burning  in  his  veins  buoyed 
him  up  with  a  strange,  fictitious  strength.  In  half 
an  hour  he  had  left  Jacksonville  behind  him.  and 
guided  by  some  dim.  undefined  instinct  he  took  the 
road  that  lead  due  west  and  directly  towards  Fair- 
field.  It  seemed  to  him  that  the  farm  Nelson  had 
gone  to  buy  must  lay  somewhere  within  that  circle 
of  golden  light,  and  so  he  pressed  on — on  with  his 
face  set  towards  those  purple  and  amethyst  splen 
dors,  those  gates  of  pearl  and  opal  behind  which 
must  lay  the  Paradise  he  sought. 

When  at  length  the  road  deviated  to  a  more  south 
erly  direction,  he  quitted  it  and  took  a  straight 
course  across  the  fields.  It  was  not  easy  travelling. 
His  feet  sank  in  the  brown,  ploughed  earth,  sharp 
pains  came  with  every  breath  he  drew,  but  the 
strange  impulse  was  on  him  still.  He  stopped  at  a 
house  where  some  children  were  playing,  and  in 
quired  if  they  had  seen  Nelson.  A  woman  carne  to 
the  door,  but  she  thought  him  only  a  crazy  tramp, 
and  his  inquiry  elicited  merely  a  pitiful  comment 
which  he  did  not  understand.  He  turned  away  and 
went  on.  The  light  grew  paler,  till  but  one  long, 
golden  bar  remained.  The  night  fell  darkling  with 
all  its  mystery  of  silence  and  shadow  and  starlight. 
Terribly  weary  and  chilled  to  the  bone  he  finally 
crept  unnoticed  into  a  barn  whose  doors  stood  hos 
pitably  open,  and  found  warmth  and  shelter,  like 
an}r  other  vagrant,  in  the  hay. 

It  happened  to  be  a  barn  on  Mr.  Dcming's  estate, 
to  whose  household  we  will  pay  another  visit,  while 


242  Between   Two  Opinions. 

poor  Tom  sleeps  on,  blessedly  forgetful  for  the  time 
being  of  the  wild  notion  that  has  taken  possession 
of  his  weak  brain,  and  Martin  Treworthy,  in  a  state 
bordering  on  distraction,  has  engaged  the  police  in 
an  active  search  after  the  missing  boy. 

Mr.  Israel  Deming  was  discoursing  with  Uncle 
Zeb  on  various  matters:  the  prospect  of  a  war  in 
Europe,  the  state  of  the  grain  market,  and  the  pecul 
iar  disadvantages  under  which  American  farmers 
labored.  Dora  was  standing  at  the  window  looking 
dreamily  out  to  the  still  faintly  glowing  west,  and 
thinking — but  Dora's  secret  dreams  and  visions  are 
her  own,  and  though  in  a  sense  they  are  far  more 
foolish  than  Tom's,  we  will  not  meddle  therewith. 
Mrs.  Deming,  as  usual,  was  not  so  far  distant  but 
that  she  could  put  in  her  word  on  occasion. 

"I  s'pose  now,"  remarked  Uncle  Zeb,  "a  war  in 
Europe  would  raise  the  price  of  breadstutfs  and 
make  business  livelier,  but  then  in  the  long  run  I 
don't  know  about  it.  War  is  a  bad  thing,  look  at  it 
any  way  you  will." 

"I  know  it  will  take  more  than  a  brush  among  the 
nations  on  the  other  side  of  the  globe  to  cure  our 
hard  times,"  said  Mr.  Deming,  decidedly.  "It  is  a 
rascally  shame  the  way  public  affairs  are  managed. 
Just  look  at  it  a  minute.  More  wheat  raised  last 
year  than  we  knew  what  to  do  with,  and  here  are  the 
Indians  starving  on  their  reservations,  and  thou 
sands  of  unemployed  workmen  whose  families  don't 
know  where  their  next  meal  of  victuals  is  coming 
from.  The  power  is  all  slipping  into  the  hands  of 


The  Good  Samaritan.  243 

the  few.  We  used  to  send  brains  to  Congress  and 
no  money;  now  we  send  money  to  Congress  and  no 
brains." 

Dora  was  sorry  for  an}'body  who  had  to  starve. 
It  must  be  dreadful,  but  then  it  was  nothing  that 
she  could  help.  She  didn't  vote  nor  make  the  laws. 
And  as  for  the  ballot  for  woman,  she  had  all  the 
rights  she  wanted  already.  Why  should  she  con 
cern  her  head  about  politics?  Such  ideas  we  may 
hear  daily  from  the  lips  of  charming  creatures  who, 
secure  in  the  affection  of  husbands  and  fathers,  can 
embroider  lambrequins  and  crazy  quilts,  and  read 
the  latest  society  novel  all  day  long  if  they  choose, 
and  never  a  thought  for  that  great  army  of  sad-eyed, 
patient  women  from  whom  the  rum  traffic  is  drain 
ing  the  life-blood  drop  by  drop,  while  they  stand 
selfishly  in  the  way  to  keep  from  the  hands  of  their 
less  fortunate  sisters  the  only  weapon  that  can  re 
dress  their  wrongs.  So  don't  be  too  severe  on  our 
little  Dora,  who  could  be  pitiful  enough  to  any  case 
of  individual  distress  brought  directly  under  her 
notice,  but  whose  sensibilities  distress  in  the  gross, 
represented  by  figures — so  many  starving  Indians, 
or  so  many  victims  of  the  dramshop — did  not  greatly 
affect. 

"Arter  all,  farmers  have  the  best  on't  when  there 
comes  a  pinch/'  said  Uncle  Zeb.  "Got  that  machine 
in  running  order  yet  Mr.  Deming?" 

Mr.  Deming  had  a  feeling  that  Uncle  Zeb  saw 
through  his  disappointment  in  the  grange,  and  was 
slyly  laughing  at  him.  But  he  did  not  choose  to 


244  Between  Two   Opinions. 

confess  that  the  machine  had  not  so  far  paid  ex 
penses.  His  wife  was  in  hearing  distance,  and  he 
dreaded  her  keen  opinion  much  more  than  he  did 
Uncle  Zeb's  inward  chuckle. 

"There's  a  good  deal  about  it  that  I  don't  see  the 
use  in,"  he  said,  cautiously.  "But  then  it  suits  the 
young  people,  and  if  it  gives  them  a  taste  for  the 
soil  and  a  little  innocent  amusement  besides,  why, 
it's  a  good  thing  so  far  as  it  goes.  I  don't  suppose 
it  is  really  time  yet  to  pass  judgment  on  it  fairly." 

"Well,  when  is  it  time,  Mr.  Deming?"  put  in  his 
spouse.  "After  you've  got  your  fingers  cut?  And 
as  for  the  young  people,  it  is  my  opinion  that  the 
grange  will  teach  them  as  much  of  farming  as  the 
Good  Templars  did  of  temperance,  and  not  a  thim 
bleful  of  either  one." 

Uncle  Zeb  chuckled  in  silence  while  Mr.  Deming 
laughed,  it  being  the  only  answer  he  could  make  un 
der  the  circumstances.  He  had  begun  to  find  out 
that  the  grange  was  a  rather  costly  machine,  and 
could  not  help  inwardly  acknowledging  that  for  the 
agricultural  classes  who  had  so  little  ready  money, 
the  simple  and  despised  farmer's  club  had  its  points 
of  advantage.  But  it  did  not  occur  to  his  mind, 
strangely  enough,  that  he  was  himself  helping  on 
the  transfer  of  power  from  the  many  to  the  few  by 
paying  away  his  money  to  a  secret  organization,  to 
go  in  turn  into  the  hands  of  unknown  leaders,  thus 
supplying  the  means  for  that  very  corruption  and 
demagogism  he  inveighed  against  so  bitterly.  But 
Mr.  Deming  was  perhaps  as  consistent  as  most  men, 


The   Good  Samaritan.  245 

The  limit  of  our  vision  which  forbids  us  to  see  both 
sides  of  a  sphere  at  once  has  its  analogy  and  coun 
terpart  in  the  moral  world. 

To  Dora  there  were  some  things  about  the  grange 
which  made  it  more  attractive  than  Good  Templar- 
ism.  She  liked  the  mixture  of  flowery  sentimental 
ity  in  the  lectures;  she  liked  to  join  in  the  harvest 
dance — even  her  mother  could  not  object  to  a  pleas 
ant,  social  recreation  not  lasting  more  than  five  min 
utes — and  she  enjo}'ed  immensely  the  distinction 
accorded  her  as  an  acknowledged  beaut}*,  of  person 
ating  one  of  the  three  heathen  goddesses  who  are 
the  presiding  geniuses  of  the  grange.  All  these 
were  among  the  things  in  which  Mr.  Deming  "saw 
no  use."  but  a  young  and  pretty  girl  intent  on  mak 
ing  conquests,  and  a  hard-headed  old  farmer  who  is 
chiefly  interested  in  the  management  of  stock  and 
the  various  kinds  of  fertilizers,  might  naturally  be 
supposed  to  regard  such  a  subject  from  widely  differ 
ent  standpoints. 

Dora  happened  to  visit  the  barn  early  in  the  morn 
ing.  She  saw  a  supposed  tramp  asleep  on  the  hay, 
and  fled  for  the  house  with  a  wild  scream  that  roused 
Tom  and  frightened  him  even  more  than  his  sudden 
apparition  had  alarmed  his  sister.  He  scrambled 
out  of  his  hiding  place,  and  when  Dora  had  reached 
the  shelter  of  the  kitchen  porch  and  turned  to  look 
once  more  she  saw  the  object  of  her  terror  crossing 
the  fields  on  a  curious,  staggering  run.  He  must 
have  been  drinking.  How  lucky  he  hadn't  set  fire 
to  the  barn  or  done  some  other  dreadful  thing! 


246  Between  Two   Opinions. 

Dora  had  a  mortal  and  certainly  a  very  excusable 
horror  of  a  drunken  man. 

Tom,  in  his  feverish  sleep,  had  dreamed  of  Nel 
son's  farm.  He  thought  they  were  both  there  to 
gether  and  everything  was  so  beautiful  and  bright, 
and  he  was  perfectly  happy.  Even  in  the  shock  of 
his  waking  up  there  still  remained  a  shattered  rem 
nant  of  the  beatific  vision.  The  sun  was  rising  full 
and  glorious.  Royally  unclosed  those  golden  gate 
ways  of  the  east  for  the  monarch's  triumphal  pas 
sage.  But  above  stretched  a  low-lying,  ominous 
bank  of  slaty-colored  clouds,  and  as  he  rose  higher 
and  higher  they  spread  over  him  their  pall-like  man 
tle.  The  wind  grew  chill  and  keen  and  piercing, 
and  a  few  drops  of  rain  began  to  fall — not  many, 
but  enough  to  chill  poor  Tom  to  the  very  marrow. 

He  had  taken  once  more  to  the  high  road.  A 
passer-by  eyed  him  curiously,  but  his  staggering 
gait  was  against  him  and  wakened  suspicion  in  other 
minds  besides  Dora's  that  he  had  been  drinking. 

At  last,  unable  to  go  further,  he  sank  down  utter 
ly  exhausted  by  the  roadside.  He  seemed  to  have 
no  consciousness  but  of  such  utter  weariness  that  it 
seemed  like  a  bottomless  abyss  in  which  even  pain 
was  swallowed  up. 

Dennis  O'Sullivan,  at  that  particular  moment,  was 
standing  in  the  door  of  his  shanty  and  calculating 
the  chances  for  a  rainy  day,  with  a  thought  of  his 
unfilled  demijohn.  The  walk  to  Jacksonville,  the 
nearest  point  at  which  he  could  procure  liquor  since 
Peter  Snyder  had  abandoned  the  business,  was  con- 


The   Good  Samaritan.  247 

siderably  longer  than  he  cared  to  take  unless  the 
cravings  of  appetite  grew  unendurable. 

By  way  of  assisting  his  mental  conclusions  he 
lighted  his  old  clay  pipe,  apostrophizing  meanwhile 
an  aged  goat  which  was  allowed  free  run  of  the 
O'Sullivan  mansion,  and  over  which  he  unfortunate 
ly  stumbled  in  his  efforts  to  find  a  match.  The  ani 
mal  really  looked  patriarchal  enough  with  his  long 
beard  to  have  a  certain  mythological  suggestiveness 
as  if  he  might  be  some  kind  of  household  Lares. 

Dennis,  in  his  sober  moments,  had  sufficient  sense 
to  know  and  acknowledge  that  he  and  his  family 
had  been  better  off  since  the  day  that  Peter  Snyder 
emptied  his  casks  of  rum  into  the  creek.  But  he 
had  given  place  to  the  devil  of  strong  drink  quite 
too  long  for  the  mere  fact  that  he  had  now  to  go 
several  miles  instead  of  a  few  rods  after  it  to  work 
a  thorough  reformation.  If  the  strongest  advocate 
of  moral  as  opposed  to  legal  suasion  would  but 
make  a  practical  test  of  his  theory  on  Dennis  O'Sul 
livan  as  he  stands  at  this  moment,  a  poor,  ignorant 
Irishman,  ready  to  sell  soul  and  body  for  a  glass — 
no,  for  a  drop  of  the  fiery  poison  that  has  nearly 
burned  up  will  and  conscience  in  its  fierce  flame,  he 
might  confess  that  there  are  cases  in  which  it  proves 
a  broken  reed,  and  the  need  of  something  stronger 
grows  very  imperative. 

Dennis  smoked  away  for  a  few  moments.  The 
clouds  gathered  thicker,  the  rain  fell  in  larger  drops, 
but  that  empty  demijohn  must  be  filled.  He  took  it 
from  the  shelf  and  with  hat  slouched  over  his  eves 


248  Between  Two  Opinion*. 

started  forth  with  a  feeling  that  was  partly  shame, 
partly  a  fierce  determination  to  have  it  or  perish, 
and  partly  the  involuntary  impulse  of  the  passion 
within  him. 

At  the  very  same  moment  Peter  Snyder  was  set 
ting  forth  on  a  vastly  different  errand.  From  the 
moment  he  had  surrendered  himself  to  his  divine 
Captor,  one  thought,  one  desire  had  possessed  his 
soul — the  thought,  the  desire  that  possessed  Saul  of 
Tarsus.  Oh,  to  be  allowed  to  do  as  much  good  as 
he  had  hitherto  done  evil!  And  so  he  had  been  led 
irresistibly  to  tell  his  experience  wherever  he  could 
Ind  anyone  to  hear  it;  and  as  this  is  just  what  the 
world  of  sinning,  suffering  men  and  women  want,  he 
had  begun — not  to  preach  exactly,  in  his  humility 
lie  would  have  been  the  first  one  to  disclaim  a 
preacher's  title — but  to  tell  the  story  at  temperance 
and  revival  meetings  of  how  the  Lord  had  met  him, 
shown  him  Himself,  granted  him  mercy,  hardened 
wretch  though  he  was,  and  how  that  same  mercy 
must  then  be  for  everyone.  Only  the  simple,  ever- 
new  story  of  One  who  calls  not  the  righteous  but 
sinners  to  repentance.  But  from  Peter  Snyder's 
lips  it  had  a  strange  power,  and  as  we  have  said  he 
was  often  called  upon  to  tell  it  in  an  uncultured  but 
earnest,  almost  inspired  fashion  that  sent  many  to 
weeping  and  praying  who  had  never  wept  or  prayed 
before. 

They  both  took  the  same  road.  Peter  Snyder  had 
a  few  moments  the  precedence,  and  thus  he  came 
soonest  on  the  prostrate  form  of  Tom. 


The  Good  Samaritan.  249 

"Sleeping  off  a  spree,  most  likely,"  was  his  first 
thought;  as  it  appeared  to  be  also  of  another  man 
who  rode  by  on  horseback,  then  reined  in  his  horse 
and  rode  back. 

"He  ought  to  be  taken  to  the  lockup,  but  we 
haven't  a  constable  worth  the  name  in  Fairfield," 
and  with  this  expression  of  contempt  for  Fairfield' s 
rural  police  the  man  rode  on,  leaving  Mr.  Snyder  to 
deal  with  the  case  as  he  best  might,  and  also  to  some 
meditations  on  Masonic  charity — for  he  knew  the 
man  to  be  a  prominent  Mason — that  were  not  flatter 
ing  to  the  much-vaunted  benevolence  of  the  order. 

He  bent  over  Tom,  examined  him  carefully  and 
saw  at  once  the  truth.  He  was  in  a  fainting  fit  from 
exhaustion.  The  face  he  had  certainly  seen  before. 
It  was  Nelson  Newhall's  feeble-minded  brother,  and 
rushing  back  on  his  mind  came  the  memory  of  the 
wrong  he  had  done  or  allowed  to  be  done  him,  and 
the  swift  and  righteous  punishment  which  had  been 
visited  on  his  head.  Mr.  Snyder  regarded  that  pun 
ishment  now  in  a  very  different  light,  as  all  just  and 
right,  and  not  the  thousandth  part  of  what  he  de 
served.  He  was  about  to  try  alone  to  bear  the  un 
conscious  Tom  to  a  place  of  shelter  when  Dennis 
0' Sullivan  came  up,  but  did  not  pass  by,  Levite  like, 
as  did  the  other;  but  stopped,  his  compassionate 
Irish  heart  prompting  him  to  aid  all  he  could. 

Mr.  Snyder's  eye  caught  sight  of  the  demijohn. 

"The  Lord  didn't  mean  you  should  get  that  filled 
to-day,  Dennis.  Here  is  a  boy  that  is  sick;  we  must 
get  him  in  somewhere  out  of  the  rain." 


250  Between  Two  Opinion*. 

Dennis  threw  down  his  demijohn  very  willingly, 
and  together  they  lifted  up  Tom  and  carried  him  to 
shelter.  Dennis  had  never  been  quite  able  to  get 
over  his  doubts  of  Mr.  Snyder's  sanity,  but  he  had  a 
feeling  that  he  was  going  to  do  a  very  foolish  thing 
which  he  would  rue  on  the  morrow,  and  it  seemed 
even  to  his  ignorant  heart  as  if  heaven  had  had  pity 
on  his  weakness  and  stopped  him  from  his  errand  to 
Jacksonville. 

Mr.  Snyder,  on  this  subject,  had  no  doubts  what 
ever.  He  had  been  stopped  from  giving  his  testi 
mony  at  the  meeting  to  which  he  was  bound.  But 
what  matter?  He  had  now  other  work  to  do:  per 
haps  the  undoing  in  some  measure  of  former  evil; 
at  least  the  trying  to,  which  in  the  Lord's  sight 
might  count  for  as  much. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

TOM'S    DREAM    COMES    TRUE. 

It  was  some  time  before  Tom  recovered  anima 
tion,  and  then  he  developed  symptoms  so  serious 
that  Dennis  O'Sullivan  was  dispatched  for  a  physi 
cian.  This  was  not  simply  for  the  reason  that  he 
was  close  at  hand;  but  Peter  Snyder  was  now  as 
earnest  to  be  his  brother's  keeper  as  hitherto  to  be 
his  destroyer,  and  it  was  with  a  determination  to 
help  Providence  keep  the  demijohn  empty  for  one 
day  at  least  that  he  sent  him  on  the  errand,  having 
first  fortified  him  against  his  alcoholic  cravings  with 
a  cup  of  strong  coffee. 

"An'  shure,  Mr.  Snyder,"  said  Dennis,  when  he 
was  told  to  go  for  one  who  lived  four  miles  away, 
"I  moight  foind  ye  a  doctor  nigher'n  the  Forks." 

Mr.  Snyder  (for  it  is  a  singular  proof  of  the  power 
of  Christianity  to  uplift  a  man  socially  as  well  as 
morall}'  that  even  his  old  cronies  no  longer  addressed 
him  in  their  old,  familiar  fashion)  glanced  up  from 
the  helpless  form  over  which  he  was  working,  chaf 
ing  the  cold  hands  and  feet  and  applying  restora 
tives,  and  hesitated  an  instant,  but  only  an  instant. 
Then  he  answered  decidedly: 

"I  know  you  could,  but  I've  got  my  reasons.     If 


252  Between   Two  Opinion*. 

it  was  a  dozen  miles  instead  of  four  I  wouldn't  have 
the  other  one." 

The  doctor  "nigher  than  the  Forks"  happened  to 
be  one  of  those  medical  practioners  with  whom  a 
free  prescription  of  whisky  seems  to  be  the  one  re 
source  when,  as  not  infrequently  happens,  their 
knowledge  is  at  fault  and  their  materia  medico,  ex 
hausted.  Peter  knew  that  the  first  thing  he  would 
be  -likely  to  do  would  be  to  order  alcoholic  stimu 
lants  in  some  form,  and  this  repentant  rumseller  was 
determined  by  the  grace  of  Grod  that  he  would  never 
again  be  even  an  accessory  to  putting  the  bottle  to 
his  neighbor's  lips.  That  the  doctor  in  question 
was  also  a  Freemason  may  have  somewhat  affected 
his  decision,  but  before  the  reader  accuses  Peter 
Snyder  of  unfairness  and  bigotry,  let  us  present  the 
case. 

The  bright  and  shining  example  of  Masonic  char 
ity  to  which  he  had  just  been  a  witness  was  in  itself 
an  argument  strong  enough  to  appeal  to  obtuser 
minds  than  his.  He  had  read  the  story  of  the  Good 
Samaritan,  or  rather  had  managed  to  spell  it  out 
with  much  difficulty,  but  his  narrow  range  of  literary 
attainments  did  not  incapacitate  him  from  judging 
for  himself  which  carried  out  most  fully  both  the 
letter  and  spirit  of  the  parable:  he  and  Dennis.O'Sul- 
livan  who  had  never  enjoyed  the  benefit  of  lodge  in 
structions  on  the  subject;  or  the  man  of  the  square 
and  compass  who  could  coolly  turn  away  and  leave 
a  fellow-being  lying  by  the  roadside,  exposed  to  the 
pitiless  storm,  with  the  hasty  surmise  that  it  was  all 


Twn's  Dream   Cvmes  True.  253 

that  fellow-being's  fault!  Supposing  he  had  been 
right.  Were  the  thieves  who  lay  in  wait  between 
Jericho  and  Jerusalem,  and  who  only  took  a  man's 
purse  and  bodily  ill-treated  him,  half  as  bad  as  the 
modern  thieves  who  lay  in  wait  to  rob  and  murder 
him  soul  and  body,  and  then  shield  their  crime  un 
der  a  government  license?  Peter  Snyder  thought 
not,  and  it  must  be  acknowledged  that  he  had  both 
logic  and  Scripture  truth  on  his  side.  Furthermore, 
the  chances  were  ten  to  one  that  the  Masonic  doctor 
would  forget  to  come.  He  had  this  convenient 
habit  of  forgetfulness  when  his  patients  were  from  a 
lower  strata  in  society  than  he  cared  to  attend:  and 
sometimes — for  he  disproved  the  assertion  that  doc 
tors  never  take  their  own  drugs  by  a  free  use  of  his 
own  alcoholic  prescriptions — he  was  not  in  a  condi 
tion  to  remember  anything. 

Martin  Tre worthy,  when  he  heard  that  Tom  had 
been  found  and  where  he  was,  ma}*  be  pardoned  if 
he  entertained  at  first  some  disagreeable  suspicions. 
He  had  not  heard  anything  of  Peter  Snyder  since  he 
left  Jacksonville,  and  the  name  suggested  only  a 
human  spider  whose  custom  was  to  catch  and  de 
vour  all  the  foolish  human  flies  he  could  inveigle 
into  his  trap;  though,  of  course,  had  the  question 
been  fairly  put  to  him,  :-Can  there  be  saving  grace 
with  the  Eternal  for  such  a  wretch?''  Martin,  who 
held  firmly  to  all  the  cardinal  points  of  evangelical 
doctrine,  would  have  answered,  i;Yes,"  most  emphat 
ically.  Still,  as  I  said  before,  let  us  forgive  him  if 
such  a  thing  as  Peter  Snyder' s  conversion  had  not 


254  Between   Two   Opinions. 

yet  occurred  to  him  as  among  the  possibilities.  But 
upon  his  arrival  he  looked  in  upon  a  scene  very  diff 
erent  from  what  he  had  imagined. 

Tom  lay  very  quiet.  All  his  vital  powers  ex 
hausted,  his  feeble  mind,  still  more  enfeebled  by 
disease,  was  only  conscious  of  having  been  terribly 
tired  and  terribly  cold,  and  being  suddenly  lifted 
into  an  atmosphere  of  warmth  and  rest.  There  were 
bright,  red  drops  on  the  coarse  napkin  with  which 
Mr.  Snyder  at  intervals  tenderly  wiped  his  mouth 
and  lips,  but  his  eyes  were  closed  and  he  breathed 
as  softly  and  evenl}r  as  a  sleeping  child.  The  vision 
of  Nelson  and  the  farm  no  longer  danced  before  his 
bewildered  brain,  but  in  place  of  it  had  come  a  feel 
ing  of  delicious  assurance  that  it  was  all  coming 
true  by  and  by,  only  he  would  have  to  wait  a  little 
while  longer. 

Some  have  advanced  the  theory  that  in  the  resur 
rection  state,  a  certain  subtle  atmosphere  emanating 
from  and  enveloping  us  with  a  mantle  of  personal 
individuality  as  strong  and  unmistakable  as  the 
physical  habits  or  the  bodily  features  which  belong 
to  us  in  our  mortal  existence,  may  form  the  basis  of 
spiritual  recognition.  And  Martin  Treworthy  had 
now  an  experience  slightly  similar.  This  was  Peter 
Snyder,  but  over  him  had  passed  a  change — that 
miraculous  making  over  of  the  entire  man  when  a 
new  heart  and  a  new  spirit  is  put  within  him,  and  a 
new  song  in  his  mouth,  even  praise  to  Him  who  hath 
redeemed  him  to  God  by  His  blood  and  made  him  in 
the  glory  and  mystery  of  salvation  a  king  and  priest 


Tom's  Dream  Comes  True.  255 

forever.     Such  a  wonderful  thing  to  happen  to  him ! 

There  were  moments  when  Peter  Snyder  stood 
dazed  with  the  strangeness  of  it — that  it  should 
really  be  given  to  him — the  new  name  and  the  white 
stone,  and  the  ineffable  blessedness  of  pardon,  and 
most  wonderful  thing  of  all  that  he  could  actually 
begin  his  life  over  again  and  live  an  existence  as 
different  and  as  utterly  separate  from  his  former  one 
as  an  angel's  from  a  fiend's. 

He  rose  hesitatingly  when  Martin  Treworthy  en 
tered.  Something  of  the  shame  of  his  old  misdeeds 
clung  about  this  new  life  still,  like  a  kind  of  husk 
which  would  never  quite  drop  away;  and  perhaps  it 
was  best  that  it  should  not,  for  it  was  a  healthy 
shame  and  had  its  own  mission  to  perform  in  mak 
ing  him  a  better  man. 

"I  s'pose  you  remember  me  for  a  poor,  miserable, 
God-forsaken  critter,  Mr.  Treworthy,"  he  said  hum 
bly;  "but  you  won't  see  any  rum  bar'ls  round  here, 
nor  smell  any  tobaccy,  nor  hear  any  swearing.  I've 
knocked  clean  off  from  them  things  and  I  want  folks 
to  know  it,  and  that  Jesus  Christ  has  stood  by  and 
helped  me  all  along,  and  if  I  ain't  what  I  was  once 
all  the  praise  and  glory  is  his.  I  want  you  to  know 
it  special" — Peter  Snyder  paused  an  instant,  and 
then  he  went  on  in  a  tone  that,  while  still  humble 
and  even  appealing,  had  a  certain  manly  dignity: 
'•Maybe  you'd  prefer  to  find  this  sick  boy  of  yourn 
in  other  hands,  and  I  can't  say  I  blame  ye  for  the 
feeling,  but  I  found  him  laj'in'  b}'  the  roadside  in  a 
dead  faint,  and  I've  done  all  for  him  I  know'd  how. 


256  Between   Two   Opinions. 

And  if  you  are  a  Christian,  and  somehow  I  take  ii 
you  are,  you'll  feel  as  the  Lord  does — glad  to  give 
me  a  chance  even  if  I  don't  deserve  it." 

Perhaps  there  was  a  little  touch  of — what  shall 
we  call  it? — not  defiance,  not  resentment,  but  the 
natural  feeling  of  a  converted  publican  who  is  con 
scious  that  his  former  life  has  given  his  fellow-men 
great  reason  to  mistrust  him,  and  yet  in  whom  the 
unspeakable  "kindness  and  love  of  God  our  Sav 
iour"  has  wakened  a  strange  longing  to  be  trusted. 

Martin  Treworthy's  spiritual  intuitions  were  quick. 
He  had  come  with  the  feeling  that  he  could  not  even 
bear  the  idea  of  Tom's  being  touched  by  the  man  to 
whom  his  present  condition  was  in  so  large  a  degree 
owing,  but  when  he  realized  the  truth,  Peter  Sny- 
der's  speech  did  not  seem  a  strange  or  impertinent 
one.  Why  should  not  this  poor  publican,  if  he  had 
truly  repented,  be  allowed  to  bring  forth  fruits  meet 
for  repentance?  Why  should  he,  as  he  himself  put 
it,  be  grudged  the  chance  to  undo  some  of  his  evil 
work. 

Martin  Treworthy  held  out  his  hand,  and  the 
bright  drops  stood  in  his  e}Tes. 

"The  Lord  bless  you,  brother;  and  may  he  forgive 
me  for  an  old  Pharisee  that  I  am." 

"But,"  answered  Peter  Snyder,  his  coarse,  un 
comely  features  half  covered  with  a  straggling,  red 
beard,  not  very  dissimilar  to  that  bestowed  by  old 
Venetian  painters  on  his  apostolic  namesake,  irradi 
ated  with  a  smile  both  humble  and  sweet,  "I  said 
nothing  of  the  kind.  I  said  I  didn't  blame  ye  for 


Tom's  Dream  Comes  True.  257 

an}*  feelin'  ye  might  have,  and  no  more  I  don't.     It's 
only  nateral  ye  should  feel  so." 

"That  don't  make  any  difference,"  said  Martin. 
"I've  found  that  the  best  thing  to  do  when  the  coat 
fits  is  not  to  get  mad  about  it,  or  to  make  believe  it 
don't  fit,  but  to  pray  the  Lord  to  fill  us  so  full  oi 
grace  that  our  souls  will  grow  too  big  for  weaiin 
on't  comfortable.  And  now  about  this  poor  fellow 
here;  I  must  take  him  home  as  soon  as  I  can." 

"But  I  ought  to  tell  ye" — Peter  Snyder  stopped 
for  an  instant  as  if  it  was  a  little  difficult  to  go  on — 
"I've  had  the  doctor  to  him.  I  thought  it  wouldn't 
do  no  hurt,  and  he  says — but  then  doctors  don't  al 
ias  tell  right — that  his  wandering  off  so,  and  the 
fatigue  and  exposure  and  everything  has  onh" 
brought  the  end  nearer  that  wa'n't  a  great  v?ay  off 
anyhow.  We've  done  all  we  could,  but  if  there's 
anybody  that  ought  to  be  telegraphed  to  it  had  bet 
ter  be  done  right  away." 

By  "we"  Peter  Snj'der  meant  to  include  his  wife. 
She  was  a  small,  pale,  broken-down,  slatternly 
woman,  with  little  education,  but  womanly  enough 
to  have  known  times  when  she  was  thankful  for  the 
three  short  graves  that  covered  all  her  maternal 
hopes.  Her  husband  had  not  always  been  kind  to 
her — quite  the  reverse — but  she  had  adapted  herself 
to  her  lot  with  a  resignation  as  complete  as  it  was 
hopeless;  so  very  complete,  in  fact,  that  she  did  not 
respond  readily  to  the  most  earnest  and  well-directed 
efforts  on  his  part  to  lift  her  up  to  the  same  moral 
and  spiritual  elevation  he  had  himself  reached. 


258  Between  Two   Opinions. 

Theoretically  this  should  not  have  been.  Sht 
ought  to  have  risen  at  once  to  the  height  of  her  new 
opportunity,  but  theories  and  facts  are  not  always 
reconcilable.  Will  a  flower,  beaten  to  the  ground  by 
a  week  of  hard  rain,  lift  itself  immediately  on  its 
stalk  when  the  rain  is  over,  and  the  sun  comes  forth 
to  create  a  new  world  out  of  twinkling  grassblades 
and  shimmering  leaves,  and  all  the  myriad  of  dim 
pling,  flashing,  wayside  pools?  Then  why  expect  it 
of  a  miserable,  degraded  womanhood,  made  miser 
able  and  degraded  by  circumstances  and  associations 
not  of  her  choosing?  And  I  boldly  put  it  to  the 
good  sisters  of  the  W.  C.  T.  U.,  if  our  hearts  should 
not  of tener  go  out  in  prayer  for  the  wives  of  our  two 
hundred  thousand  rumsellers.  It  is  a  bitter  cup 
many  of  these  women  drink.  God  only  knows  how 
bitter. 

Martin  Treworthy  felt  his  brain  reel.  Mechanic 
ally  he  went  to  Tom's  side  and  sat  down.  If  he  was 
onty  sure  where  Nelson  was  and  could  dispatch  a 
telegram!  But  he  did  not  think  of  a  more  subtle 
telegraphy,  an  electric  wire  hidden  deep  in  the  mys 
teries  of  being,  over  which  messages  are  sometimes 
strangely  flashed  to  the  soul,  though  philosophy  as 
yet  can  only  class  it  with  the  long  list  of  mental  and 
spiritual  phenomena  about  which  we  may  only  pre 
sume  to  conjecture. 

Tom  knew  him,  for  he  smiled,  stroked  his  hand, 
and  said  something  rambling  and  but  half  coherent, 
of  which  the  only  intelligible  words  were  "Nelson" 
and  "the  farm." 


Tom's  Dream   Comes   True.  259 

They  watched  beside  him,  one  as  tenderly  as  the 
other,  all  that  day  and  the  next,  Martin  Treworthy 
almost  feeling  his  whole  being  dissolve  as  it  were  in 
the  intensity  of  his  one  constant  petition  that  Nel 
son  might  return  before  the  flickering  lamp  of  Tom's 

life  went  out 

********** 

The  sun  was  going  down  in  a  glorious  sweep  of 
golden  light  that  reflected  itself  in  the  tranquil 
waters  of  the  creek  like  some  dual  existence,  half 
dreams  and  half  reality,  but  one  so  like  the  other 
that  the  dream  seems  a  reality  and  the  reality  seems 
a  dream. 

Tom  had  been  restless  much  of  the  time,  and  now 
he  wanted  to  be  lifted  up  and  look  out.  The  win 
dow  stood  wide  open  to  give  more  air  to  his  ex 
hausted  lungs,  but  the  day  had  been  one  of  those 
unusually  mild  ones  which  have  such  a  singular 
charm,  as  if  the  spring,  in  a  fit  of  coquetry,  was  try 
ing  on  some  of  the  matronly  airs  of  summer.  The 
thermometer  had  registered  75  in  the  shade.  A 
slight  haze  from  the  smoke  of  far-distant  burning 
prairies  gave  a  dreamy  softness  to  the  horizon  like 
a  thin  veil  drawn  over  glories  too  bright  for  mortal 
view. 

What  was  passing  through  his  mind,  which  had 
seemed  too  dull  and  imbecile  almost  to  have 
thoughts?  I  think  nothing  beyond  a  general  sense 
of  calm  contentment.  The  state  of  partial  delirium 
was  over,  and  he  only  remembered  his  strange  esca 
pade  like  a  bad  dream  from  which  it  is  pleasant  to 


260  Between   Two   Opinions. 

wake.  But  suddenly  his  eyes  brightened.  He 
seemed  to  hear  something  unnoted  by  either  of  the 
watchers  at  his  bedside.  It  is  a  sound  of  horse's 
hoofs.  They  are  coming  nearer  and  nearer,  and  he 
knows  by  some  strange  intuition  that  they  will  stop 
at  the  door,  that  the  rider  will  fling  himself  off  in 
hot  haste,  and  that  rider  will  be — Nelson. 

It  is  even  so.  Tom  is  again  folded  in  those 
strong  arms,  and  the  scalding  tears  are  falling  on 
his  face,  and  he  wonders  why  when  he  is  so  happy. 
Does  there  come  before  his  weak  brain  the  image  of 
a  Love  mightier  than  a  brother's? — of  sunshine  fall 
ing  on  green  fields  in  some  far-off  blissful  clime 
brighter  than  all  his  dreamings,  where  that  love 
shall  enfold  him  forever  and  all  his  miserable  herit 
age  of  weakness,  mental,  moral,  and  physical,  drop 
away  and  leave  him  what  G-od  and  nature  meant  he 
should  be;  restoring  to  him  the  heritage  of  which  he 
had  been  despoiled  without  hope  of  redress  ?  Though 
our  Christian  faith  bids  us  believe  that  to  such  un 
fortunates  the  deficiencies  of  their  earthly  lot  will  be 
balanced  in  another  world,  can  any  such  considera 
tion  diminish  aught  of  the  sin  and  crime  of  depriv 
ing  them  of  their  birthright  here?  Do  not  the  high 
est  scientific  authorities  unite  in  telling  us  that  the 
great  majority  of  the  feeble-minded  children  who  fill 
our  various  asylums  are  made  such  by  the  intemper 
ate  habits  of  parents?  Yet  to  increase  the  revenue, 
and  give  more  power  to  corrupt  politicians,  we  allow 
the  traffic  to  go  on!  On  whom  shall  the  blame  be 
put?  Who  is  responsible?  Christian  voters,  answer. 


Tom's  Dream   Comes   True.  2(51 

The  mysterious  change  came  over  Tom's  face. 
Nelson  saw  it,  and  it  checked  his  sobs  with  an  im 
pulse  of  foreshadowing  awe.  He  lay  back  on  the 
pillow  panting  for  breath,  his  eyes  wide  open  and 
fixed  on  a  warm,  golden  gleam  that  shot  across  the 
roughly  plastered  wall  opposite. 
•  Sing,"  he  said,  wearily. 

And  Nelson  sung  the  hymn  which  for  some  unex 
plained  reason  Tom  had  always  seemed  to  like  the 
best:— 

"On  Jordan's  stormy  banks  I  stand 

And  cast  a  wishful  eye, 
To  Canaan's  fair  and  happy  land 
Where  my  possessions  lie." 

Nelson  had  always  wondered  why  Tom  should 
fancy  it,  being  perfectly  certain  that  his  understand 
ing  was  not  equal  to  any  real  grasping  of  the  senti 
ment  of  the  hymn;  but  it  suddenly  flashed  on  his 
mind  that  he  had  perhaps  connected  the  words  in 
some  dim  fashion  with  their  old  air  castle  destined 
to  have  no  earthly  realization. 

The  thought  made  it  hard  for  Nelson  to  go  on, 
but  he  would  not  let  himself  falter. 

And  even  as  his  voice  rang  out  sweet  and  true  in 

the  closing  lines,  Tom  fell  asleep. 

•*#####**## 

•'It  was  that  night  in  Jesse  Dukes'  cabin.  I  had 
just  laid  down  when  I  seemed  to  hear  Tom's  voice 
and  started  up  broad  awake,  but  everything  was 
still,  and  there  was  nothing  to  be  seen  only  the  stars 
shining  down  through  a  chink  in  the  logs;  and  I  fell 
asleep  again  after  awhile  for  I  was  tired.  But  I 


262  Between    Two   Opinions. 

couldn't  get  it  out  of  my  head  that  Tom  wanted  me, 
and  the  impression .  on  my  mind  kept  growing 
stronger  every  day,  for  I  stayed  round  in  the  neigh 
borhood  thinking  I  should  get  a  letter  right  off,  and 
when  none  came  I  made  up  my  mind  to  go  back  to 
Tom,  and  never  leave  him  again." 

This  was  in  substance  the  explanation  which  Nel 
son  gave  of  his  startling  reappearance  to  Martin 
Treworthy,  who  was  blaming  himself  for  a  miserable 
counsellor  and  heaping  on  himself  many  undeserved 
reproaches  for  having  urged  him  to  leave  Jackson 
ville  at  all. 

"My  dear  old  friend,"  said  Nelson,  affectionately 
taking  his  hand,  "this  won't  do.  You  counselled  ac 
cording  to  your  light.  It  seemed  best  at  the  time 
that  I  should  go  away  and  seek  another  home  for 
both  of  us.  And  who  shall  say  it  was  not  best  so 
long  as  G-od  ordered  it.  I  thought  if  I  could  only 
put  Tom  where  he  would  be  safe,  where  not  the 
shadow  of  temptation  could  touch  him!  And  the 
Lord  has  done  just  that  thing — so  much  better  than 
I  could  do  it." 

And  Nelson  once  more  bowed  himself  over  the 
unconscious  dead,  dimly  wondering  if  Tom  had  met 
their  mother,  and  what  they  would  say  to  each  other 
as  the  golden  doors  of  the  new  life  closed  behind 
them.  As  he  stood  there  he  was  conscious  of  a 
hand  touching  his  arm,  and  a  voice  that  said 
brokenly: 

"If  I  could  give  my  own  life  in  his  place,  and  ye 
could  have  him  back  again,  I'd  do  it  in  a  minit,  but 


Tarn's  Dream    Comes    True.  263 

when  a  man  has  been  weaving  the  devil's  web  most 
all  his  life,  undoing  the  threads  comes  hard.  If  ye 
can  only  forgive  nie  for  the  Lord's  sake  for  my 
share  in  bringin'  this  trouble  on  ye." 

Nelson's  feelings  towards  Peter  Snyder,  so  far  as 
he  thought  of  him  at  all,  had  not  been  unlike  Mar 
tin  Treworthy's.  Still,  his  anger  against  the  system 
itself  on  which  he  felt  his  brother's  death  to  be 
directly  chargeable  burned  with  too  fierce  a  flame  to 
leave  much  to  spare  in  any  merely  personal  direc 
tion.  The  moments  in  which  he  stood  there  were 
not  simply  moments  of  communion  with  his  beloved 
dead,  still  less  of  mere  indulging  in  his  grief.  He 
was  passing  through  a  mighty  baptism  in  great 
waters,  and  while  he  shivered  in  their  chill  embrace 
he  felt  not  only  the  divine  strength  that  is  born  of 
sorrow  but  that  tenderness  which  comes  to  the  heart 
when  a  great  grief  has  smitten  it.  So  he  did  what 
six  months  before  he  could  hardly  have  imagined 
himself  as  doing — took  Peter  Snj'der's  hand  in  a 
friendly  grasp  and  said  solemnly : 

•  "If  the  Lord  has  granted  you  forgiveness,  what 
am  I,  a  mortal  man,  that  I  should  withhold  mine." 

But  though  Nelson  forgave  Peter  Snyder  from  his 
heart,  and  himself  turned  comforter  to  Martin  Tre- 
worthy,  he  did  not  choose  to  send  any  word  to  Dora 
of  her  brother's  death.  He  believed,  and  we  must 
acknowledge  he  was  not  far  out  of  the  way,  that 
Dora  in  her  new  relations  had  so  far  forgotten  the 
old  as  not  to  care  to  be  reminded  of  them,  and  fur 
thermore  would  be  far  more  likelv  to  be  ashamed  of 


264  Between   Two   Opinion*. 

the  fact  that  she  had  an  imbecile  brother,  than  to 
feel  any  special  affliction  at  his  loss.  I  am  afraid 
he  felt  a  little  hard  to  Dora,  perhaps  harder  than  the 
real  facts  warranted.  But  among  other  indictments 
of  the  drink  system,  which  standing  by  Tom's  dead 
form  he  had  vowed  to  battle  heart  and  soul  all  his 
life  through,  he  might  have  very  truthfully  brought 
this — that  it  had  robbed  him  of  a  sister. 

Uncle  Zeb,  who  was,  as  we  have  before  said,  the 
general  news-carrier,  casually  mentioned  the  next 
day  "that  the  poor  crazy  chap  he  had  hearn  was 
dead,  that  had  been  picked  up  over  to  the  east 
part." 

"It's  wonderful  now  how  that  Peter  Snyder  is 
changed,"  he  continued.  "They  say  he  took  him  in 
and  sent  for  a  doctor  and  cared  for  him  like  a  bro 
ther  o'  mercy.  And  I  wouldn't  wonder  if  it  was 
him  that  Dora  saw  tother  morning  asleep  on  the  hay 
in  the  barn." 

Dora  thought  very  likely  it  was,  and  she  wished 
she  had  not  been  such  a  goose  as  to  be  frightened 
at  the  poor  fellow.  But  beyond  vague  regrets  Dora's 
reflections  on  the  matter  did  not  go. 


CHAPTER  XXL 

MARTHA    AND    NELSON. 

The  motive  which  had  led  Nelson  to  leave  Jack 
sonville  no  longer  existed.  The  recent  labor  trou 
bles  had  driven  off  many  of  the  old  hands,  and  new 
ones  had  been  taken  on,  so  that  there  was  practic 
ally  an  almost  entire  change  of  the  working  force. 
The  men  for  the  present  had  enough  of  cut- 
throat  organizations,  and  it  was  not  likely  that  the 
Order  of  the  Red  Mark  would  meet  with  a  speedy 
resurrection. 

Martha,  seated  at  her  work-table  with  Nelson  at 
her  side,  felt  almost  as  if  the  past  few  weeks  had 
been  an  ugly  dream.  Only  in  her  visions  of  their 
future  home  there  would  ever  be  one  form  missing; 
unless,  indeed,  he  came  as  a  gentle  ghost  whose  im 
palpable  hands  should  drop  unseen  benisons,  sweet 
ening  their  united  lives  as  with  perfumes  of  Para 
dise. 

Nelson  took  up  Martha's  scissors  and  began  to 
toy  with  them  in  rather  absent  fashion.  He  had 
some  news  to  tell  her.  At  last  it  came  abruptly. 

4vMatthew  Densler  has  offered  me  the  foreman's 
place  at  the  works,  and  I  have  accepted  it." 

Martha  did  not  speak  at  once;  her  emotions  at  the 
announcement  were  somewhat  divided.  She  kept 


266  Between    Two   Opinions. 

on  with  her  work  but  her  hands  trembled,  for  Mar 
tha  had  her  weaknesses  like  other  women  where 
those  she  loved  were  concerned,  and  the  terrible 
scenes  of  the  riot  were  still  vivid  in  her  mind. 

"I  left  Jacksonville,"  continued  Nelson,  with  per 
haps  an  intuitive  perception  of  what  she  was  think 
ing,  "because  it  was  more  to  my  taste  to  decamp 
quietly  for  a  season  than  to  be  forced  to  go  about 
with  a  concealed  dirk  or  revolver  ready  to  use  on  my 
fellow-man.  But  as  you.  well  know,  my  chief 
thought  was  Tom — to  get  him  out  of  the  neighbor 
hood  of  the  saloons,  and  rid  myself  of  the  constant 
worrying  fear  that  when  he  got  well — I  never 
thought  there  could  be  any  other  ending" — and  Nel 
son  caught  his  breath  with  a  half  sob — "his  slumber 
ing  appetite  for  drink  would  again  be  awakened,  and 
I  should  have  a  repetition  of  all  the  old  misery  and 
trouble.  I  remember  so  well  how  I  felt  the  first 
time  Tom  came  home  to  me  intoxicated,  and  I  real 
ized  the  terrible  truth — that  there  was  a  double 
curse  on  him.  And  yet  it  wasn't  his  fault,  poor  boy, 
that  wretches  in  the  semblance  of  men  should  decoy 
him  into  saloons  and  make  him  drunk  for  their 
amusement." 

"Nelson,"  said  Martha,  earnestly,  "try  to  look 
away  from  human  wickedness  and  cruelty  to  the 
dear  Lord's  compassion  in  thus  taking  Tom  to  him 
self,  and  so  mercifully  restraining  his  appetite  all 
through  those  long  months  of  his  illness,  that  you 
only  remember  what  a  sweet,  loving,  gentle  soul  be 
was." 


Martha  and  Nelson.  267 

"I  do  try  to,  but  my  heart  aches  so  to  see  him 
back  in  his  old  place;  and  then  the  thought  that  I 
shall  never  minister  to  his  comfort  again,  never  tell 
him  stories  or  sing  him  songs,  comes  surging  over 
me  like  a  great  black  wave,  and  leaves  me  feeling  so 
sore  and  empty.  I  know  it  is  selfish;  that  I  ought 
to  be  glad  he  is  safe,  but  it  is  hard." 

"God  knows  it  is,"  said  Martha,  with  a  sympa 
thetic  tremble  in  her  voice. 

"•Most  people  would  wonder  I  felt  so,"  said  Nel 
son  bitterly.  "They  would  say  I  was  only  rid  of  a 
burden.  Little  they  know  about  it." 

"Average  human  nature  is  coarse-grained,"  said 
Martha,  soothingly.  "We  must  make  some  allow 
ances.  You  know  I  don't  feel  in  that  way,  nor  does 
Martin  Treworthy.  Dear  old  man!  I  believe  you 
are  just  like  a  son  to  him." 

"I  dare  say  I  shall  feel  differently  when  I  get 
more  used  to  not  having  Tom  to  think  of  and  care 
for.  But  it  is  like  ravelling  out  a  part  of  my  life, 
and  I  really  think  it  is  better  for  me,  all  things  con 
sidered,  that  I  should  come  back  and  take  my  old 
place  at  the  works.  I  have  always  hated  the  noise 
and  heat  and  grime  of  the  shop,  and  naturally  I  have 
a  great  love  for  the  soil,  and  for  all  the  sights  and 
sounds  connected  with  a  farm,  but  just  now  I 
couldn't  bear  them.  Densler  is  realh'  more  just  than 
the  average  of  the  manufacturers,  and  I  am  hoping 
that  since  his  late  experience  he  will  see  the  reason 
ableness  of  adopting  a  more  liberal  and  conciliatory 
policy  with  his  workmen.  And  there  is  another 


268  Between   Two   Opinions, 

thing.  I  don't  want  to  forego  taking  a  freeman's 
part  in  the  next  election.  I  think  we  shall  have  an 
exciting  time,  when  every  righteous  vote  will  be 
needed.  Martha,  the  prophets  of  our  day  may  cry, 
'peace,  peace!'  but  there  can  be  no  peace  till  these 
great  questions  that  are  pressing  to  the  front  and 
clamoring  for  an  answer  are  settled.  And  it  is 
American  working  men,  not  millionaires,  nor  the 
scum  and  riffraff  cast  by  the  old  world  on  our  shores 
who  have  got  to  settle  them.  By  G-od's  grace  I  will 
be  one  to  stand  at  my  post  and  fire  my  ballot  when 
ever  and  wherever  I  see  a  wrong  to  hit." 

Martha  dropped  her  work,  and  her  eyes  were  full 
of  those  unshed  tears  that  only  rise  in  moments  of 
solemn  gladness. 

"Oh,  Nelson,  I  will  help  you  to  be  strong  and 
true!  You  shall  never  falter  because  I  am  weak. 
We  will  work  together,  pray  together  for  the  good 
time  coming  when  Christ  shall  reign  over  our  nation 
— and  everywhere." 

And  was  it  strange  that  Nelson,  looking  into  her 
glowing,  earnest  face,  should  feel  himself  elevated 
to  the  height  of  prophecy,  though  it  only  took  the 
form  of  a  familiar  Scriptural  quotation,  at  which 
Martha  smiled  and  blushed,  but  seemed  in  no  wise 
offended. 

"The  heart  of  her  husband  doth  safely  triLst  in  her  so 
that  he  hath  no  need  of  spoil.  She  will  do  him  good 
and  not  evil  all  the  days  of  her  life.'1 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

UNCLE  ZEB  TRIES  A  MASONIC  EXPERIMENT  AXP  MEETS 
WITH  UNLOOKED-FOR  SUCCESS. 

The  current  of  our  ston~  bears  us  once  more  to 
Fairfield.  It  is  a  summer  day,  the  exact  counter 
part  of  the  one  on  which  we  made  our  first  visit  to 
Israel  Deming's  farm  a  year  ago.  Nothing  has 
altered;  that  is  to  say,  there  is  the  same  aspect  of 
careful  thrift,  the  same  abundance  of  creature  com 
forts.  There  is  only  the  hidden,  impalpable  change 
which  goes  on  in  all  our  human  lives  as  unconscious 
ly  as  the  change  of  particles  in  our  ph}*sical  frames. 

Dora  has  felt  in  the  last  few  months  the  dim  and 
hitherto  unknown  stirrings  of  her  undeveloped 
woman's  nature,  and  begun  to  vaguely  realize  that 
her  free  and  happy  estate  of  girlhood  cannot  last 
forever.  All  very  salutary  knowledge  so  far  as  it 
goes,  but  in  Dora's  case  it  has  only  gone  far  enough 
to  produce  a  misty  glamour  in  which  neither  the 
present  nor  the  future  assume  exactly  their  right 
proportions. 

Uncle  Zeb  and  Mr.  Deming  are  discussing  matters 
and  things  with  their  usual  freedom  and  familiarity, 
the  topic  of  their  conversation  being  a  recent  ser 
mon  preached  by  Elder  Wood  from  the  text,  ;-In 
secret  have  I  said  nothing."  Fairfield  was  not  used 


270  Between   Two    Opinions. 

to  anti-secret  sermons,  or  indeed  reform  sermons  of 
any  kind,  and  if  it  excited  anger  and  hard  speeches 
in  many  quarters,  it  gave  at  least  a  new  theme  for 
general  discussion,  and  considered  in  this  light  was 
quite  a  god-send  to  Uncle  Zeb,  who  sometimes  found 
his  stock  subjects  of  gossip  worn  very  threadbare. 

Probably  one  of  the  very  best  ways  of  finding  out 
the  various  points  of  view  from  which  anything  is 
regarded  in  the  community  at  large  is  to  hear  the 
matter  freely  talked  over  in  the  domestic  privacy  of 
an  average  household;  and  for  this  reason  we  will 
join  unseen  the  group  in  the  back  porch  precisely  at 
the  moment  that  Uncle  Zeb  is  delivering  himself  as 
follows : 

11 1  like  a  preacher  that'll  keep  folks  awake,  and 
that's  one  reason  why  I'm  allus  on  hand  when  I  hear 
Elder  Wood  is  goin'  to  preach.  He's  got  a  master 
way  of  kinder  takin'  up  things  and  flashing  Gospel 
truth  onto  'em  till  they  look  as  different  as  night 
and  morning.  Naterally  a  man  don't  like  to  change 
his  mind  arter  he's  got  it  once  made  up,  but  then 
that  don't  alter  right  and  wrong.  Whatever  a  min 
ister  thinks  he  ought  to  say  without  fear  or  favor, 
let  it  hit  as  it  will.  That's  my  doctrine." 

"Why,  Uncle  Zeb;  I  thought  you  was  a  good 
Mason,"  said  Mr.  Doming,  half  jocularly. 

There  was  the  slightest  perceptible  shrug  of  Uncle 
Zeb's  shoulders  as  if  this  might  be  a  doubtful  point. 

"Maybe  I  am  and  maybe  I  ain't.  Anyhow  I 
know  too  much  to  give  myself  away  as  some  on  'em 
are  doing.  It's  real  redikerlous — all  this  talk  about 


A  Masonic  Experiment.  271 

rotten-egging  the  Elder  and  riding  him  on  a  rail, 
jest  for  standing  up  and  speaking  what  he  thinks  is 
the  truth,  as  if  this  wa'n't  a  free  country  where 
every  man  has  got  a  right  to  free  speech.  That's 
what  I  stickle  for.  I  stand  by  the  Constitution  and 
the  Declaration  of  Independence/' 

And  Uncle  Zeb  ended  with  a  rather  triumphant 
inflection  of  his  voice  as  if  conscious  that  he  was 
holding  a  position  at  once  patriotic  and  unassailable. 
In  truth  Uncle  Zeb?s  Masonry  sat  as  loosely  on  him 
as  the  liberal  theology  of  the  present  day  on  some 
of  its  supporters;  but  this  latitudinarianism  of  opin 
ion  was  naturally  and  easily  accounted  for  by  the 
fact  that  though  he  had  once  joined  the  order  and 
paid  dues,  nobody  knew  when,  he  had  long  ceased 
to  be  numbered  with  the  membership  of  an}*  partic 
ular  lodge. 

"I  shouldn't  have  minded  so  much  his  hitting 
Masonry,"  said  Mr.  Deming;  -but  it  seemed  to  me 
that  when  he  included  the  grange,  as  though  that 
wa'n't  much  better,  it  was  going  a  little  too  far." 

"So,  ho!"  chuckled  Uncle  Zeb.  "Mustn't  throw 
stones  at  your  winders  it  seems.  Might  hit  that 
machine  inside  and  put  some  of  the  gearing  out  of 
kilter." 

Mr.  Deming  mentally  winced,  but  he  remembered 
that  for  Uncle  Zeb  to  have  his  joke  was  as  fixed  as 
an}*  fact  in  nature,  and  he  would  not  have  cared 
were  it  not  for  the  consciousness  that  he  had  indeed 
"given  himself  away"  much  more  freely  than  he 
meant.  A  year  ago  he  would  have  indorsed  ever}' 


272  Between   Two   Opinions. 

word  of  Elder  Wood's  sermon,  but  joining  the 
grange  had  converted  this  honest  American  farmer 
into  a  tacit  apologist  for  the  whole  secret  system. 
It  is  indeed  remarkable  how  a  very  small  admixture 
of  error  in  our  mental  lens  will  make  us  color  blind. 

Dora  sat  in  unusual  silence.  To  her  the  sermon 
would  have  been  an  agreeable  variety  for  its  novel 
subject,  if  for  nothing  else,  had  the  preacher's  at 
tacks  been  confined  entirely  to  Masonry,  against 
which  she  entertained  a  truly  feminine  prejudice; 
but  Elder  Wood,  while  he  looked  upon  the  latter  as 
the  old  mother  serpent,  saw  no  reason  why  he  should 
not  bring  down  his  club  of  spiritual  truth  and  logic 
with  stunning  force  on  the  smallest  member  of  the 
family  that  happened  to  wriggle  across  his  path. 
So  the  grange,  with  other  minor  orders,  received 
special  mention  as  a  system  plainly  emanating  from 
Masonry,  with  the  same  Christless  ritual,  the  same 
sham  benevolence  and  moralit}7,  and  the  same  offer 
of  final  salvation;  to  all  of  which  Dora  listened  with 
out  feeling  any  particular  force  in  the  argument. 

There  is  nothing  in  the  world  more  impervious  to 
religious  truth  than  that  shell  of  complacency  in 
which  a  }Toung  and  careless  soul  wraps  itself, 
when  secure  in  youth  and  health  and  beauty  it  feels 
no  need  of  anything  higher,  or  deeper,  or  more  sat 
isfying;  but  repels  every  offer,  every  promise,  every 
appeal  by  saying  as  did  the  old  Laodicean  church, 
"I  am  rich  and  increased  with  goods  and  have  need 
of  nothing."  But  when  the  Elder  referred  to  the 
paganism  of  the  grange,  and  asked  how  many  Chris- 


A  Masonic  Experiment.  ,     273 

tian  women  would  willingly  personate  its  three  pre 
siding  heathen  goddesses,  Ceres.  Pomona,  and  Flora, 
after  knowing  the  characters  which  they  severally 
bore,  Dora  began  to  feel  a  new  interest,  for  had  she 
not  freen  chosen  to  enact  the  part  of  Flora? 
and  did  she  not  at  their  last  meeting  wear  roses  in 
her  dark  hair,  and  roses  at  her  bosom  and  belt,  and 
look  as  bewitching  and  sweet  as  if  she  had  been  a 
veritable  rose  herself?  And  it  came  with  a  sudden 
shock  to  her  self-satisfaction  to  know  that  she  was 
personating  one  of  the  vile  and  shameless  women  of 
antiquity,  whose  hand  she  would  on  no  account  have 
touched  had  she  been  a  character  of  the  present 
day. 

Poor  Dora!  She  was  vain  and  foolish,  yet  pure 
of  heart  and  intention,  and  she  shrank  from  the  very 
thought  of  any  connection  with  impurity  and  shame 
as  from  the  touch  of  red-hot  iron.  She  felt  per 
versely  inclined  to  be  angry  with  the  white-haired 
old  minister  for  telling  these  homely  truths.  Wirv 
couldn't  he  have  kept  silent  on  that  particular  point? 
for  she  felt  certain  that  she  could  never  again  act 
the  part  of  Flora  in  the  grange  without  a  scathing 
remembrance  that  would  make  her  cheeks  burn. 

Mrs.  Deming  was  setting  up  the  heel  of  a  stock 
ing,  and  necessarily  occupied  in  counting  stitches, 
so  that  she  had  as  yet  taken  no  part  in  the  conver 
sation.  But  it  was  not  because  her  mind  was  not 
fully  made  up  on  the  subject,  for  she  now  spoke  out 
decidedly: 

"I  believe  every  word  of  that  sermon  was  Gospel 


274     ,  Between  Two  Opinions. 

truth,  and  I  wish  there  were  more  ministers  like 
Elder  Wood.  He's  got  the  real  martyr  spirit  in 
him.  Think  how  wonderfully  that  Peter  Snyder 
was  converted  under  his  preaching!  It  seemed  al 
most  as  it  was  in  the  days  of  the  apostles;  and  for 
my  part  I  think  the  warnings  of  such  a  man  ought 
to  be  regarded.  It  did  me  good  to  hear  him  say 
right  out  what  I've  thought  and  said  myself  ever  so 
many  times  about  Masonry's  protecting  the  saloons, 
and  encouraging  drinking  and  all  that  sort  of  thing." 

Now  to  know  that  some  good  and  noble  soul 
whom  we  have  reason  to  look  up  to  with  reverence 
thinks  just  as  we  do  is  certainly  one  of  the  best  pos 
sible  reasons  for  holding  on  to  our  belief  that  can 
be  adduced  outside  of  divine  inspiration;  and  Mrs. 
Deming  may  be  pardoned  if  she  clicked  her  needles 
with  a  conscious  sense  of  superiority.  Whether 
Uncle  Zeb  cared  enough  for  the  institution  to  which 
he  nominally  belonged  to  take  up  the  cudgels  in  its 
defence  it  is  impossible  to  say,  for  at  that  moment 
the  appearance  of  a  man  riding  by  on  a  light  sorrel 
steed — in  fact  the  identical  horseman  who  not  only 
would  have  passed  poor  Tom  by  on  the  other  side, 
but  worse  even  than  the  ancient  Levite,  would  have 
consigned  him  to  the  tender  mercies  of  the  police 
and  the  lock-up — turned  the  current  of  the  conversa 
tion  into  a  slightly  different  channel. 

"That  Dacey  now  is  a  smart-appearing  man,  and  I 
suppose  he's  done  a  good  deal  in  getting  the  grange 
started.  But  it  looks  to  me  as  though  he'd  got  a 
number  of  axes  to  grind  with  all  them  farming  ma- 


A  Masonic  Experiment.  275 

chines  that  they  say  he's  agent  for.  But  then,"  ad 
ded  Uncle  Zeb  philosophically,  "the  hull  world  is 
putty  much  like  a  big  grindstone  if  you  look  at  it  in 
that  light" 

•  Mr.  Deming  decidedly  wished  that  these  remarks 
had  not  been  made  in  the  hearing  of  his  wife,  but 
she  had  reached  another  intricate  point  in  her  knit 
ting  and  was  perhaps  not  paying  much  attention, 
and  Uncle  Zeb  had  such  an  innocent  way  of  bring 
ing  out  his  inconvenient  sayings  that  Mr.  Deming  in 
spite  of  his  inward  discomfort  could  not  really  be 
lieve  that  there  was  any  malicious  intent  behind 
them. 

The  gentleman  just  now  under  discussion  was  a 
comparatively  new  comer  in  Fairfield,  but  he  always 
dressed  well,  and  seemed  to  have  plenty  of  money, 
and  in  addition  to  these  two  prime  points  he  was,  as 
Uncle  Zeb  had  expressed  it,  "a  smart-appearing 
man."  It  was  generally  understood  that  he  held 
certain  agricultural  patents  in.  trust  for  interested 
parties,  and  there  were  some  in  Fairfield  who,  like 
Uncle  Zeb,  thought  his  activity  in  organizing  the 
grange  sufficiently  accounted  for  by  this  latter  fact. 
He  was  good-looking,  and  a  fluent,  entertaining 
talker,  and  nothing  being  positively  known  against 
him,  Fairfield  society  generally  pronounced  him 
' 'charming."  It  is  true  there  were  a  few  prejudiced 
people  who  ventured  to  disagree  with  the  popular 
verdict;  who  saw  something  sinister,  even  sharp, 
low  and  cunning,  under  his  bland  smile  and  undeni 
able  good  looks.  But  of  this  class  wns  not  the  open- 


276  Between   Two  Opinions. 

hearted,  choleric,  unsuspicious  Mr.  Deming;  nor 
Dora,  who  was  rather  weary  of  her  boyish  admirers, 
and  having  made  Mr.  Dacey's  acquaintance  at  the 
grange  meetings  had  begun  by  thinking  what  an 
agreeable  contrast  a  mature  man  of  forty,  who  had 
traveled  about  and  seen  the  world,  presented  to  cal 
low  youths  of  eighteen  and  twenty,  who  seemed  to 
know  as  little  what  to  talk  about  as  what  to  do  with 
their  feet  and  hands;  and  she  ended  by  thinking  a 
great  deal  more  about  him  than  was  prudent. 

Dora  had  an  intuition  that  her  mother  would  dis 
approve  of  any  such  match,  and  possibly  her  father 
too;  and  she  never  meant  to  marry  without  their 
consent,  but  what  was  the  harm  in  such  a  very  pleas 
ant  acquaintanceship  that  would  never  be  likely  to 
go  any  farther?  The  moths  who  hover  about  can 
dles  are  not  always  of  the  masculine  persuasion. 
Dora  had  not  the  smallest  intention  of  singeing  her 
pretty  wings.  That  was  a  thing  that  never  occurred 
to  her  in  all  her  dreamings,  but  why  did  his  next  re 
mark  make  her  feel  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  in 
clined  to  be  angry  with  kind  old  Uncle  Zeb? 

"Dacey  looks  some  like  a  man  I  used  to  know  in 
Ohio.  He  come  from  some  Eastern  State,  Connecti 
cut  I  think  it  was,  and  set  up  store.  And  he  was 
jest  a  going  to  marry  one  of  the  finest  gals  in  the 
neighborhood  when  who  should  come  onto  the  scene 
but  his  wife  with  two  of  her  children!  He'd  spent 
all  her  property  and  then  run  off  and  left  her." 

"He  ought  to  have  been  hung,"  said  Mrs.  Deming, 
Tattling  her  needles  with  quick  emphasis. 


.4  Masonic  Experiment.  277 

"So  I  say,"  echoed  Israel  Deming.  "Such  men 
ought  not  to  be  above  ground." 

"Fix  it  any  way  you've  a  mind  to  there'll  allus  be 
rogues  jest  as  there'll  allus  be  grasshoppers  and 
weevils  and  potato-bugs,"  replied  Uncle  Zeb,  sagely. 

"There  wouldn't  be  so  many  rogues  if  Masonry 
could  be  put  down,"  said  Mrs.  Deming.  "It  stands 
to  reason.  Talk  about  there  being  good  men  in  the 
lodge!  So  there  is,  but  you  put  a  dozen  fools  and 
one  knave  together,  and  I'll  warrant  that  the  knave 
will  manage  the  fools." 

"Well,  I  hain't  been  nigh  the  Masons  for  twenty 
years,"  said  Uncle  Zeb,  when  he  had  got  through 
shaking   with   his   little  inward  laugh.     "I  expect 
'  there's  been  changes  since  then." 

"When  I  was  a  girl,"  said  Mrs.  Deming,  "I  used 
to  hear  them  tell  about  raising  the  devil  in  the  lodge 
and  wonder  how  it  was  done.  I  don't  believe  that 
has  all  gone  by  yet" 

"I've  seen  it  done  lots  of  times,"  returned  Uncle 
Zeb,  boldly.  "They'd  have  to  rap  on  the  ceilin'  and 
say  over  something  in  Latin,  and  then  he'd  come 
stalking  through  the  room,  hoofs  and  horns  and  all, 
lookin'  as  if  he'd  jest  stepped  out  of  one  of  the  pic-  • 
ters  in  Pilgrim's  Progress." 

"Uncle  Zeb,  what  do  you  mean  by  telling  such 
yarns!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Deming,  slightly  scandalized. 
But  Dora,  who  saw  only  an  avenue  for  her  j'outhful 
spirit  of  fun,  sprang  up  from  her  seat  and  said  in 
her  prettiest  and  most  coaxing  fashion,  "Oh,  Uncle 
Zeb,  show  me  how  they  did  it  Now  do,  please." 


278  Between   Two   Opinions. 

It  was  in  vain  that  he  tried  to  parry  this  startling 
proposal  with  the  plea  that  it  was  so  long  ago  he 
had  forgotten  the  precise  form  of  incantation  neces 
sary  to  use. 

Dora,  in  her  young,  bright  wilfulness,  was  not 
easily  turned  off  from  the  idea,  and  with  his  usual 
readiness  to  enter  into  a  jest,  Uncle  Zeb  finally  con 
sented.  Mrs.  Deming  indeed  rather  disapproved  of 
any  such  trifling  with  the  invisible  powers  of  evil, 
but  the  force  of  her  protest  was  rather  marred  by 
her  previous  skepticism,  and  so  amounted  to  little. 

"I  guess  I'll  try  it  out  in  that  ere  back  room," 
said  Uncle  Zeb;  "but  there  must  only  be  we  two. 
More  might  break  the  spell." 

In  great  glee  Dora  led  the  way  to  an  unfinished' 
apartment  where  the  rough  work  of  the  family  was 
generally  done.  There  was  a  good-sized  loft  above 
and  an  open  stairway  leading  to  it,  while  doors  at 
either  end  opened — one  on  the  barnyard,  where 
Dora's  favorite  bantams  cocked  expectant  eyes  and 
waited  for  her  to  throw  them  their  customary  feed 
of  corn;  the  other  commanding  a  splendid  outlook 
over  a  field  of  billowy  wheat,  which,  as  it  met  with 
out  a  break  the  blue  line  of  the  horizon,  gave  that 
sealike  sense  of  measureless  distance  which  is  so 
restful  to  earth-weary  souls — like  a  thought  of  eter 
nity. 

Uncle  Zeb  began  to  knock  with  his  cane  in  vari 
ous  places  on  the  walls,  muttering  meanwhile  a  pe 
culiar  and  self-invented  lingo.  It  is  needless  to 
state  that  he  had  not  the  smallest  idea  of  raising 


A  Masonic  Experiment.  279 

an3rthing  except  echoes,  but  magicians,  ever  since 
the  Witch  of  Endor's  day,  have  sometimes  done  bet 
ter  than  they  expected,  and  Uncle  Zeb  was  suddenly 
startled  by  an  answering  thump  and  clatter  over 
head,  while  to  his  horrified  vision  something  that 
owned  unmistakable  hoofs  and  horns  shot  down  the 
stairs  and  past  him  out  at  the  door.  We  are  sorry 
to  be  obliged  to  record  it  of  Uncle  Zeb,  but  he  was 
a  sad  coward,  and  such  unlooked-for  success  in  his 
experiment  put  him  to  precipitate  flight,  followed  by 
peals  of  convulsive  laughter  from  Dora,  who,  when 
the  first  instant  of  half-petrified  amazement  was 
over,  saw  through  the  whole  mystery. 

"Why,  mother,  it  was  only  the  0' Sullivan  goat," 
she  explained  between  her  bursts  of  merriment,  as 
Mrs.  Deming  made  her  appearance  with  Mr.  Deming 
close  behind,  just  in  time  to  be  a  witness  to  the  de- 
noument.  "You  know  the  Van  E}'cks  who  lived 
here  before  we  did  owned  him  first,  #nd  he  has  never 
forgotten  his  old  quarters." 

"I  declare,  wife,  if  that  ain't  the  best  joke  I  ever 
heard  of.  Uncle  Zeb  really  thought  he  had  raised 
the  old  Nick  himself."  And  Mr.  Deming  also  ex 
ploded  in  a  fit  of  uncontrollable  laughter  joined  in 
heartily  by  his  spouse,  while  the  unfortunate  magi 
cian  finally  ventured  back  looking  rather  foolish. 

"This  is  the  fust  time  I  ever  tried  a  Masonic  ex 
periment,  and  I  guess  it  will  be  my  last.  But 
Marthy  Washington!  I  reckon  it  won't  be  the  last  T 
shall  hear  on't" 

Uncle  Zeb  was  correct. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

A  PECULIAR  KIND  OF    MORALITY    AND    BENEVOLENCE. 

We  do  not  see  how  we  can  better  apologize  for 
the  undignified  ending  of  our  last  chapter  than  to 
give  the  reader  a  glance  into  the  law  office  of 
Stephen  Rowland,  whom  we  have  neglected  of  late, 
while  pursuing  the  fortunes  of  the  other  characters 
in  our  story.  He  set  out  in  his  profession  as  the 
reader  knows  with  a  very  high  aim,  and  all  things 
considered,  he  has  kept  to  that  aim  with  commend 
able  resolution.  When  a  young,  ardent  soul  throws 
itself  with  all  the  earnestness  of  its  nature  into  the 
battle  against  an*organized  and  powerful  wrong,  it 
receives  as  it  were  in  the  very  act  a  kind  of  invisible 
guard  and  shield.  This  does  not  always  prevent 
the  man,  as  proved  by  one  or  two  melancholy  in 
stances  in  our  political  histoiy,  from  being  captured 
by  an  ignoble  self-interest,  and  made  to  grind  in  the 
prison-house  of  the  very  foes  he  once  fought — a 
blind  and  shorn  Sampson,  an  Ichabod  from  whom 
the  glory  has  forever  departed. 

It  is  too  early  yet  to  reckon  on  Stephen  How- 
land's  future  with  perfect  certitude,  but  for  our  part 
we  have  a  great  deal  of  faith  in  the  prayers  of  that 
simple,  hill-country  couple — even  more  than  we  have 


A  Peculiar  Kind  of  Morality.  281 

in  his  Puritan  birth  and  training,  powerful  factors 
though  they  are.  And  at  the  same  time  Stephen,  in 
spite  of  all  these  helping  forces,  visible  and  invis 
ible,  stands  in  a  place  where  he  needs  all  the  sup 
port  they  can  give  him.  We  are  told  of  lying  spirits 
going  forth  to  bewilder  and  deceive,  and  there  is 
f  ertainly  one  in  our  own  day  which  has  been  even 
known  to  air  its  falsehoods  and  blasphemies  in 
Christian  pulpits:  a  spirit  that  substitutes  mystery 
for  truth,  shadow  for  substance;  that  strikes  at  the 
heart  of  faith  with  the  concealed  dagger  of  a  dis 
guised  infidelity:  and  would  smirch  the  white  robes 
of  the  Bride  of  Christ  herself  in  the  vain  attempt  to 
whitewash  its  own  garments. 

This  spirit  Stephen  Rowland  is  now  confronting, 
and  it  speaks  from  the  lips  of  Mr.  Felix  Basset 

••We've  missed  you  at  the  lodge  meetings  lately." 
began  Mr.  Basset  with  his  easy,  cordial  smile.  {iand 
last  night  especially.  We  had  an  installation,  and 
there  were  a  good  many  visitors  from  neighboring 
lodges — some  notable  ones.  So  it  was  really  quite  an 
occasion,  and  if  I  had  had  a  donbt  of  your  being  there 
I  should  have  called  round.  This  lack  of  interest 
among  members  hurts  Odd-fellowship  more  than  the 
attacks  of  all  the  anti-secret  fanatics.  Now  I  was 
looking  over  the  reports  of  the  Grand  Lodge  the 
other  day.  and  I  find  we  are  really  losing  ground  in 
spite  of  large  accessions — so  many  members  drop 
away  after  the  first  year  and  neither  attend  nor  keep 
up  their  dues/' 

Stephen's  eyes  were  by  no  means  fully  opened  to 


282  Between  Two   Opinions. 

the  evils  of  secrecy,  but  he  had  begun  to  feel  a  nat 
ural  disgust  for  the  reiterated  mummeries  of  the 
lodge  room.  The  principles  taught  might  be  all 
right — might  even  be  as  Mr.  Basset  had  so  many 
times  averred,  a  perfect  religious  system,  able  in  the 
absence  of  any  other  guide  to  lead  its  devotees 
straight  to  heaven;  but  Stephen  had  a  strong  dislike 
to  farce,  and  an  equally  strong  dislike  for  inconsist 
ency.  The  Odd-fellow  ritual,  especially  the  coffin 
scene,  had  not  in  the  beginning  recommended  itself 
to  his  common  sense  or  his  good  taste;  and  worse 
than  that  he  had  reason  to  fear  that  there  existed  a 
deplorable  laxity  in  practice  among  many  of  the 
members  of  this  "moral"  order.  He  had  fully 
meant  at  some  convenient  season  to  have  a  serious 
talk  with  Mr.  Basset,  in  the  hope  that  these  unpleas 
ant  doubts  and  suspicions  might  thereby  be  laid  to 
rest,  and  the  present  occasion  seemed  favorable.  So 
he  began,  rather  hurriedly  and  with  a  half  wish  that 
the  talk  was  safely  over,  for  between  his  desire 
neither  to  offend  Mr.  Basset  nor  compromise  the 
truth  he  was  not  likely  to  find  very  smooth  sailing. 
"I  have  been  pretty  busy  of  late  with  one  or  two 
important  cases,  and  the  installation  quite  slipped 
from  my  mind  last  night.  But  now  we  are  on  the 
subject,  I  must  say  that  I  have  lately  learned  facts 
which  have  both  surprised  and  pained  me.  I  find 
there  are  quite  a  number  in  our  lodge  who  are  in 
one  way  or  another  connected  with  the  liquor  busi 
ness.  I  am  trying,  as  you  know,  to  serve  faithfully 
the  temperance  people  of  this  city  who  have  done 


A  Peculiar  Kind  of  Morality.  283 

me  the  honor,  though  young  and  unknown,  of  mak 
ing  me  their  special  attorney.  And  it  is  embarrass 
ing  to  feel  that  I  am  joined  by  lodge  vows  with  men 
who  have  a  personal  interest  in  supporting  the 
traffic.  I  can  well  see  how  cases  may,  and  no  doubt 
will,  arise  in  which  I  shall  have  to  act  against  a  bro 
ther  Odd-fellow  or  stultify  my  conscience:  and  I 
have  been  seriously  considering  whether  it  would 
not  be  better  on  the  whole  to  procure  a  demit  and 
withdraw  from  the  lodge  entirely.  I  have  nothing 
against  the  order  personally,  and  I  know  there  are 
good  prohibitionists  in  it.  But  that  has  nothing  to 
do  with  the  difficulty,  for  it  is  not  with  those  that 
my  business  as  temperance  attorney  will  be  likely 
to  bring  me  into  collision.  Wh}',  I  know  from  un 
disputed  authority  that  the  saloon  property  which 
pays  the  heaviest  tax  in  Jacksonville  is  owned  by 
an  Odd-fellow,  a  prominent  member  of  our  lodge." 

"Oh,  if  you  come  to  that,"  answered  Mr.  Basset, 
whose  countenance,  after  the  first  start  of  surprise, 
settled  back  into  its  usual  agreeable  smile,  "no  so 
cial  or  even  religious  organization  was  ever  perfect. 
Look  at  the  church !  I  can  point  out  to  you  mem 
bers  in  good  standing  who  do  that  very  thing.  I 
could  count  you  off  a  dozen,  to  say  the  least,  good 
Methodists  and  Presbyterians,  who  rent  their  prop 
erty  to  saloon-keepers.  I  don't  excuse  such  incon 
sistency  of  course,  but  the  lodge  is  really  no  worse 
than  the  church  when  it  comes  to  the  point" 

Stephen  was  silent.  At  heart  he  felt  a  thrill  of 
indignation,  as  if  he  had  heard  some  courtesan  with 


284  Between   Two   Opinions. 

painted  cheeks  compared  to  his  mother.  If  it  were 
so;  if  he  had  been  deceived  all  along  in  both;  if  one 
were  as  good,  or,  to  borrow  Mr.  Basset's  expression, 
no  worse  than  the  other,  what  better  thing  remained 
for  a  man  than  to  fall  back  on  pantheism,  positive- 
ism,  or  even  a  refined  paganism,  and  drift  into  the 
unknown  abyss  with  the  motto  of  the  old  grovelling 
heathen  world  of  St.  Paul's  day  on  his  lips,  "Let  us 
eat  and  drink,  for  to-morrow  we  die."  Not  that 
Stephen  was  really  conscious  of  having  any  such 
thought;  he  would  have  repudiated  it  at  once  had  it 
presented  itself  in  honest  fashion.  He  would  have 
said,  "There  is  something  better;"  and  clung  to  his 
old  faith  with  the  tenacity  of  a  soul  that  fears  ship 
wreck.  But  the  unconscious  infidelity  which  is  like 
the  microscopic  germs  that  diffuse  invisible  poison 
in  the  air  we  breathe  and  the  water  we  drink,  I  know 
of  nothing  that  will  guard  against  that  but  such  a 
baptism  of  the  Holy  Spirit  as  shall  consume  these 
spiritual  sporadic  germs  in  its  swift,  down-rushing 
fires  that  take  the  whole  life  for  a  sacrifice  and  the 
whole  heart  for  an  altar.  And  it  was  just  this  that 
Stephen  lacked. 

He  was  aware  that  what  Mr.  Basset  had  said  was 
sadl}r,  unmistakably  true.  The  churches  in  Jack 
sonville  seemed  to  be  engaged  in  a  pretty  even  race 
with  the  world,  which  begat  the  natural  fruits:  un 
seemly  rivalries  with  each  other,  and  spiritual  dead- 
ness.  They  had  oyster  suppers,  and  fairs,  and  fes 
tivals,  and  entertainments  of  every  description;  and 
now  and  then  there  was  a  spasmodic  effort  to  "get 


A  Peculiar  Kind  of  Morality.  285 

up  a  revival;"  as  useless,  and  perhaps  to  heavenly 
eyes  as  painful  and  hideous  as  the  attempt  to  gal 
vanize  a  corpse  into  seeming  life.  Was  it  strange 
that  this  modern  Sardis  allowed  to  stand  unques 
tioned  on  her  membership  roll  the  names  of  those 
who  "took  the  price  of  blood  and  the  wages  of  in- 
iquit}*?''  or  that  there  were  even  whispered  reports 
of  scandalous  sin  on  the  part  of  some  of  her  promi 
nent  professors?  But  why  did  it  not  occur  to 
Stephen,  as  a  curious  coincidence,  to  say  the  least, 
that  every  professed  Christian  whom  Mr.  Basset 
vauntingly  pointed  out  as  in  complicity  with  the 
liquor  traffic  was  either  a  Mason  or  an  Odd-fellow? 
Why  did  he  not  think  that  union  with  unbelievers 
who  practiced  secret  works  of  darkness  might  be 
just  as  disastrous  to  the  purity  of  the  church  now 
as  in  early  times  when  such  '  'unequal  yoking"  was 
so  strictly  forbidden? 

But  Stephen,  as  we  have  said,  was  silent.  His 
silence,  however,  made  no  difference  with  Mr.  Bas 
set,  who  talked  on. 

"Now  just  think  of  all  the  benevolent  work  that 
is  being  done  by  the  order.  I  don't  mean  to  say 
anything  to  run  down  other  organizations,  but  for 
pure  charity  commend  me  to  Odd-fellowship.  Over 
two  million  dollars  was  paid  out  for  relief  last  year 
— you  can  see  it  for  }*ourself  in  the  printed  reports, 
I  believe  I've  got  one  in  m}*  pocket  now.  When 
anybody  says  anything  against  Odd-fellowship, 
there's  a  plump  knock-down  argument  for  'em.  I 
just  turn  round  and  say,  'Why  don't  the  churches  do 


286  Between   Two   Opinions. 

this  work?'  and  that  generally  shuts  them  up.  Just 
picture  to  yourself  how  many  widows  and  orphans 
have  been  made  glad;  how  many  desolate  homes 
have  been  cheered;  in  short,  what  a  munificent  work 
of  love  and  good-will  has  been  accomplished  by  the 
judicious  distribution  of  this  immense  sum!  What 
ever  else  we  do,  my  dear  young  friend,  don't  let  us 
circumscribe  our  charities.  'He  that  giveth  to  the 
poor  lendeth  unto  the  Lord.'  " 

Stephen  colored.  He  was  naturally  generous  and 
open-handed,  and  he  could  not  bear  the  tacit  impu 
tation  of  meanness  in  his  motives  for  leaving  the 
lodge.  But  he  only  reached  up  to  one  of  the  pigeon 
holes  where  he  kept  his  papers,  and  drew  out  a  let 
ter. 

"What  you  say,  Mr.  Basset,  reminds  me  of  a  let 
ter  that  I  received  to-day  from  the  widow  of  a  cer 
tain  Jacob  Strycker,  a  lately  deceased  member  of 
our  lodge.  I  should  like  to  show  it  to  you  as  it  re 
fers  to  an  important  matter  that  I  think  ought  to  be 
set  right  immediately." 

"Jacob  Strycker? — let  me  see,"  said  Mr.  Basset. 
"Oh,  I  remember  now.  Mr.  Strycker  died  at  Ft. 
Wayne,  slightly  in  debt  to  the  lodge  at  the  time. 
That  circumstance,  you  know,  cancels  all  claim  to 
a  benefit." 

"But  hear  what  Mrs.  Strycker  says: — 'I  write  to 
you,  Mr.  Rowland,  because  you  are  a  lawyer  and 
know  about  such  things.  The  lodge  in  Jacksonville 
to  which  my  husband  belonged,  and  of  which  I  un 
derstand  you  are  a  member,  has  refused  to  give  me 


A  Peculiar  Kind  of  Morality.  287 

the  customary  benefit  on  the  ground  that  his  dues 
were  unpaid  at  the  time  of  his  death.  This  is  not 
so.  He  mailed  five  dollars  from  Ft.  "Wayne  the  day 
before  he  died,  which  was  received  and  credited,  and 
left  a  small  balance  in  his  favor.  I  know  my  hus 
band  believed  that  I  would  be  provided  for.  Will 
you  please  look  into  this  matter,  and  see  that  justice 
is  done  to  a  poor  widow  and  her  fatherless  children, 
though  she  can  only  pay  you  with  her  blessing  and 
her  prayers.  LYDIA  STRYCKER.'  " 

"Of  course  there  must  be  some  misunderstand 
ing,"  remarked  Stephen,  as  he  folded  the  letter. 
"No  lodge  in  the  land,  I  hope,  would  take  such  mean 
and  dishonest  advantage  of  a  mere  technicality,  as 
Mr.  Strycker's  money  was  of  course  on  the  road  at 
the  time  of  his  death." 

"Well,  now,  that  don't  seem  right,  does  it?  She 
has  written  a  very  touching  letter.  I  declare,  I  am 
really  very  sony  for  her.  But  then  as  a  sensible 
woman  she  ought  to  understand  that  there  can't  be 
any  rule  devised  that  will  not  sometimes  and  in 
some  cases  bear  hard.  The  rule  of  Odd  fellowship 
is,  'Pay  in  advance,'  and  of  course  there  will  always 
be  some  compelled  by  misfortune  to  violate  it.  In 
that  case  all  they  pa}'  in  is  forfeited,  but  they  enter 
with  that  understanding,  so  it  is  really  all  fair 
enough  when  one  comes  to  look  at  it — only,  as  I 
said  before,  it  comes  hard  in  particular  cases." 

"But  Mr.  Strycker  kept  up  his  dues,"  interrupted 
Stephen,  impatiently.  "Lawfully  that  money  be 
longed  to  the  lodge  as  soon  as  it  left  his  hands." 


288  Between    Two   Opinions. 

"Well,  I  think  it  would  have  been  better  to  have 
stretched  the  point  and  handed  over  the  benefit;  de 
cidedly  I  do.  Such  things  give  a  handle  to  the 
anti-secret  party  if  they  leak  out,  and  they  are  sure 
to.  We  might  pass  round  a  subscription  paper  for 
Mrs.  Strycker.  I  don't  doubt  but  you  could  collect 
a  handsome  sum  from  the  members  of  our  lodge  by 
going  privately  to  them  and  stating  the  unfortunate 
features  of  the  case.  I  would  be  willing  myself  to 
put  down  five  dollars." 

"No,"  said  Stephen,  rather  hotly.  "Mrs.  Strycker 
has  not  asked  for  charity  but  justice,  and  justice 
she  shall  have.  There  shall  be  an  appeal  made  to 
the  Grand  Lodge." 

Mr.  Basset  drummed  lightly  with  his  cane  on  the 
floor  and — a  rather  strange  thing  for  him — did  not 
immediately  reply.  Clearly  the  young  lawyer  was 
not  made  of  the  most  manageable  material  in  the 
world,  and  would  have  to  be  dealt  with  carefully, 
or  in  other  words,  dosed  liberally  with  that  com 
modity  vulgarly  known  as  "soft  soap,"  which,  by 
the  way,  as  the  reader  has  doubtless  perceived,  Mr. 
Basset  had  a  native  gift  for  administering.  He  had 
no  intention  of  letting  so  valuable  a  member  as 
Stephen  Rowland  slip  out  of  the  order.  And  here 
comes  in  the  natural  inquiry,  what  made  him  valu 
able?  and  why  should  Mr.  Basset  be  so  specially 
anxious  to  retain  him? 

The  former  of  these  two  questions  is  very  easily 
answered.  Stephen,  as  a  young  and  rising  temper 
ance  lawyer,  could  give  the  lodge  a  moral  prestige 


A  Peculiar  Kind  of  Morality.  289 

that  would  offset  an}'  number  of  Van  Gilders.  What 
could  more  effectually  shut  the  mouth  of  anybody 
disposed  to  carp  at  the  convivial  origin  of  Odd-fel 
lowship,  or  to  intimate  that  while  intoxicating 
liquors  might  be  forbidden  in  the  lodge  room,  it  still 
kept  up  the  traditions  of  its  birthplace  in  an  English 
ale-house  by  gathering  in  saloons  after  the  meetings 
adjourned,  or  circulating  pocket  flasks  privately  in 
committee  rooms  to  an  accompaniment  of  tobacco 
smoke,  vulgar  stories  and  coarse  jokes,  than  to  point 
to  Stephen  Rowland,  attorney  for  the  Law  and 
Order  League,  as  a  member  in  good  and  regular 
standing?  As  acceptable  material  for  the  lodge,  he 
ranked  nearl}*  equal  in  point  of  fact  to  a  popular 
clergyman. 

The  second  reason  is  not  so  easily  given.  Mr. 
Basset's  love  for  Odd-fellowship  proceeded  from 
mixed  motives  that  could  be  resolved  into  unmixed 
selfishness  by  a  little  close  analysis.  He  had  an 
ease- loving  nature,  and  preferred,  so  to  speak,  a  self- 
adjustable  religion  that  would  fit  every  phase  of 
worldly  requirement;  that  would  have  an  elastic 
adaptation  to  anything  doubtful  in  belief  or  dubious 
in  practice;  in  short,  something  totally  different  from 
the  tight-fitting  Bible  code  which  would  expose  his 
moral  and  spiritual  infirmities  b}'  conscious  twinges 
as  a  tight  shoe  discovers  a  bunion.  This  he  found 
in  Odd-fellowship.  It  made  no  difference  that  he 
was  nominally  a  professor  of  the  Christian  religion. 
Ho  could  wear  the  livery  of  both;  and  perhaps  in 
the  great  day  of  account  it  will  be  found  that  at 


290  Between  Two  Opinions. 

least  a  part  of  the  guilt  of  such  hypocrisy  must  be 
laid  at  the  doors  of  those  churches  that  allow  this 
double  profession,  and  thus  in  effect  put  the  Christ- 
less  paganism  of  the  lodge  on  a  level  with  the  soul- 
saving  doctrines  of  the  cross.  He  never  consciously 
avowed  to  himself  that  he  looked  upon  Odd-fellow 
ship  as  a  possible  covert  in  case  of  criminal  "impru 
dence,"  for  he  hoped  on  the  contrary  never  to  for 
feit  what  he  was  very  fond  of — the  good  opinion  of 
his  fellow-men,  by  any  outward  act  that  would  con 
demn  him  in  the  eyes  of  society.  And  yet  all  the 
while  there  existed  in  his  mental  background  a  dim 
shadowy  consciousness  that  the  protection  clause  in 
the  Odd-fellow's  obligation  might  make  it  a  very 
convenient  thing  if — but  Mr.  Basset  never  carried 
his  thoughts  beyond  that  innoeent  little  preposition. 

Stephen,  for  his  part,  looked  on  Mr.  Basset  as  a 
good-hearted,  social  kind  of  a  man,  though  rather 
shallow.  On  the  whole  he  liked  him.  He  had  a 
certain  open  way  with  him  that  is  always  taking  to 
a  frank  nature,  and  any  suspicion  of  selfish  motives 
in  the  latter 's  evident  anxiety  to  retain  him  in  the 
lodge  was  as  far  as  possible  from  Stephen's  mind. 

Mr.  Basset,  with  all  his  seeming  openness,  had 
not  a  little  diplomatic  craft.  So  he  did  not  tell 
Stephen  that  he  was  morally  sure  the  Grand  Lodge 
would  render  an  adverse  decision  in  Mrs.  Stacker's 
case;  or  that  he  himself  had  been  knowing  to  more 
than  one  similar  instance  where  men  had  paid  in 
hundreds  of  dollars,  but  happening  to  die  slightly 
in  debt  to  the  lodge,  the  moral  and  charitable  order 


A  Peculiar  Kind  of  Morality.  291 

they  had  so  trustingly  joined  kept  their  money,  but 
refused  all  benefit  to  the  widows  and  orphans  sup 
posed  to  be  the  objects  of  its  beneficent  care.  There 
was  one  screw,  however,  yet  unturned,  and  like  a 
good-natured  inquisitor  of  olden  times,  he  proceeded 
with  an  easy  smile  to  make  Stephen  feel  this  power. 

"Speaking  about  a  demit  now.  Of  course  any 
body  is  at  liberty  to  leave  the  lodge,  but  you  re 
member  the  closing  part  of  the  Odd-fellow's  obliga 
tion:  l Should  I  be  expelled,  or  voluntarily  leave  the 
order,  1  will  consider  this  promise  as  binding  out  of  it 
as  in  it.'  A  demit  makes  no  difference  with  the  ir 
revocable  nature  of  the  vow." 

Stephen'  felt  as  if  suddenly  caught  in  a  vice.  He 
had  merely  been  turning  the  idea  over  in  his  mind 
of  leaving  the  lodge  without  coming  to  any  definite 
resolution,  for  he  meant  to  take  no  hasty  step; 
though  he  could  not  help  acknowledging  that  he  had 
been  very  hasty  in  joining  a  society  which  by  its 
very  constitution  he  was  prevented  from  knowing 
anything  about  beforehand — he  could  easily  slip  his 
neck  from  under  the  noose  when  convinced  that  it 
was  not  a  good  thing.  Now  the  idea  of  irrevocable- 
ness  made  the  obligation  which  had  before  rested  on 
him  with  the  lightness  of  a  silken  thread  press  like 
a  band  of  iron.  But  he  was  too  proud  to  let  Mr. 
Basset  discern  his  mental  wincings.  So  he  only 
said  quietly,  "I  haven't  made  up  my  mind  whether 
to  leave  yet  or  not,  and  if  I  do,  it  will  not  be  be 
cause  I  have  any  difficulty  with  the  obligation  as  I 
understand  it." 


292  Between   Two   Opinions. 

"Now  that  is  a  very  important  point — to  under 
stand  it  right,"  said  Mr.  Basset,  catching  eagerly  at 
this  latter  clause  in  Stephen's  remark.  "Unprinci 
pled  men  creep  into  Odd-fellowship.  There's  no  de 
nying  that.  I'm  sorry  it  is  so.  But  you  must  take 
it  like  everything  else,  the  evil  along  with  the  good. 
This  report,  by  the  way,  I'll  leave  with  you,  and  you 
can  look  it  over  when  you  have  leisure.  You  know 
we  may  reason  and  argue  about  a  thing,  but  when  it 
comes  to  convincing,  facts  and  figures  do  the  busi 
ness." 

And  Mr.  Basset  departed  with  a  smile  so  beaming 
in  its  friendly  cheerfulness  that  he  might  have  al 
most  sat  for  the  benevolent  spirit  of  his  favorite  or 
der  personified. 

Stephen,  in  an  interval  of  leisure  between  the 
study  of  his  law  cases,  took  up  the  pamphlet  and 
ran  his  eye  over  the  figures.  It  was  certainly  true 
that  Odd-fellow  benevolence  had  mounted  up  the 
last  year  to  over  two  millions.  At  the  same  time  its 
collections  had  reached  a  sum  of  over  five  millions. 
Stephen's  mathematical  mind  at  once  perceived  that 
the  lodge  was  very  well  paid  for  its  "charity"  by  a 
margin  of  three-fifths  of  the  receipts.  Would  not 
an  insurance  company  that  took  60  per  cent  to  pay 
its  running  expenses  be  called  an  arrant  swindle? 
And  if  the  church  should  do  so,  would  not  lodgemen 
like  Mr.  Basset  be  the  first  to  call  her  by  even  a 
worse  name? 

These  questions  Stephen  revolved  in  his  mind  and 
half  decided  in  his  next  letter  home  to  confess  his 


A  Peculiar  Kind  of  Morality.  293 

folly — for  folly  he  now  considered  it — and  ask 
counsel.  But  it  would  pain  the  old  couple  to  find 
out  that  he  had  taken  such  a  step  and  kept  it  so 
long  a  secret  from  them;  and  his  mind,  until  Mr. 
Basset  had  so  coolly  showed  him  that  he  was  reck 
oning  without  his  host,  had  clung  hopefully  to  pro 
curing  a  demit;  for  he  fluttered  himself  that  then  his 
whole  experience  as  an  Odd-fellow  would  drop  out 
of  his  life  so  completely  that  it  need  never  be  re 
ferred  to  or  thought  of  again. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

IN   RAMAH    WAS   THERE    A    VOICE    HEARD. 

The  president  of  the  W.  C.  T.  U.  in  Jacksonville, 
like  many  another  woman  in  the  White  Ribbon 
ranks,  had  known  a  time  when  she  construed 
St.  Paul  with  extreme  literalness,  and  would  have 
faced  the  cannon's  mouth  sooner  than  an  average- 
sized  audience.  Yet  she  had  conquered  early  preju 
dice  and  native  timidity  so  far  as  to  be  not  only  an 
indefatigable  temperance  worker,  but  one  of  the  most 
acceptable  speakers  in  the  organization,  her  glowing 
eloquence  and  forceful  logic  being  only  matched  on 
the  platform  by  the  charm  of  her  noble  presence  and 
sweet,  womanly  voice. 

There  is  nothing  more  wonderful  in  this  whole 
wonderful  movement  than  the  fact  that  it  has  devel 
oped — not  one  Deborah,  that  would  be  nothing  re 
markable — but  hundreds  of  Deborahs,  each  one  a 
host  in  herself,  who  have  risen  in  their  might  "for 
God  and  home  and  native  land,"  unmindful  of  the 
sneers  or  the  misunderstandings  of  smaller  and 
weaker  souls.  Thank  God  for  the  army  of  temper 
ance  Deborahs!  Is  it  not  fitting  that  by  them  he 
should  judge  the  traffic  which  has  made  so  many 
Rachels. 


A    Voice  in  Rainah.  295 

Martha,  however,  never  thought  of  herself  in  this 
exalted  light,  for  she  was  in  her  own  humble  esti 
mate  only  one  of  the  rank  and  file,  though  she 
taught  a  primary  class  in  the  Jacksonville  Band  of 
Hope;  and  so  when  Mrs.  Judge  Haviland  made  her 
an  informal  call  one  day,  she  was  as  agreeably  sur 
prised  as  one  of  Napoleon's  subalterns  might  have 
been,  unexpected!}'  honored  by  a  visit  from  his  com- 
mander-in-chief. 

The  weather  was  warm  and  close.  Mrs.  Haviland 
sank  down  in  the  easy  chair  Martha  offered  her  with 
a  look  of  weariness  and  exhaustion  in  her  face  that 
might  have  been  attributed  to  the  heat  by  any  one 
who  did  not  know  that  in  the  past  six  months  the 
number  of  local  Unions  and  Bands  of  Hope  which  she 
had  organized,  the  addresses  she  had  made  to  adults, 
and  the  talks  she  had  given  the  children,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  time  and  strength  diffused  through 
numberless  minor  channels,  were  more  than  enough 
to  keep  mind  and  body  strained  to  their  highest  ten 
sion. 

"I  called  to  have  a  little  talk  with  you,"  she  said, 
"about  our  Band  of  Hope  especially.  I  want  to 
praise  you,  Miss  Benson,  for  the  admirable  way  in 
which  you  have  trained  those  little  midgets.  I  was 
quite  surprised  as  well  as  delighted  the  other  day  to 
see  how  clearly  the}'  seemed  to  understand  political 
economy  in  its  relations  to  the  drink  traffic." 

"I  am  a  pupiL  myself."  replied  Martha,  modestly. 
k-I  have  only  lately  begun  to  study  these  subjects. 
My  first  introduction  to  temperance  work  was  when 


296  Between   Two  Opinions. 

I  joined  the  Good  Templars,  and  the  drink  question 
as  related  to  economic  or  hygienic  questions  was 
never  once  discussed  in  the  lodge  to  which  I  be 
longed;  or  even  alluded  to." 

"I  do  not  like  to  say  anything  against  any  society 
which  professes  to  work  for  temperance,"  replied 
Mrs.  Haviland,  "but  I  find  that  these  secret  tem 
perance  lodges  educate  superficially  if  they  educate 
at  all,  which  I  am  sometimes  inclined  to  doubt;  and 
the  result  is  a  host  of  nominal  laborers  who  may  be 
well-trained  in  lodge  work  but  no  farther.  I  rejoice 
in  the  broadening  scope  of  the  W.  C.  T.  IT.  Looked 
upon  merely  as  a  grand  educational  agency  for 
woman,  it  is  a  most  powerful  force  in  the  mental 
and  spiritual  development  of  our  sex.  By  it  God  is 
training  the  future  mothers  of  our  Republic  for  who 
knows  what  duties,  what  responsibilities!" 

Mrs.  Haviland  was  silent  for  a  moment — a  silence 
Martha  did  not  choose  to  break;  and  then  she  con 
tinued,  her  face  lighting  up  with  a  strange  radiance 
as  she  dwelt  on  the  record  of  the  past,  "I  was 
one  of  the  Ohio  crusaders.  Perhaps  our  way  was  a 
wrong  one,  but  it  was  the  way  God  led  us.  Even 
now  I  hear  people  sneer  at  that  first  earty  movement 
as  a  mere  craze,  a  folly,  a  mistake.  Perhaps  it  was 
all  that,  but  it  was  a  great  deal  more.  God  was  in 
our  mistake,  our  folly,  if  such  it  was — guiding  us, 
teaching  us,  leading  us  by  a  way  that  we  knew  not 
of.  And  better  to  blunder  and  have  God  with  us, 
than  not  to  blunder  and  walk  without  him." 

"We  were  native-born  American  women,  educated, 


A    Voice  in  Raniah.  297 

religious,  home-loving,  with  all  the  deep-rooted, 
moral  instincts  that  belong  to  such  as  their  native 
birthright,  yet  we  were  bound  and  helpless.  We 
had  to  stand  by  while  the  temperance  laws  were 
made  a  dead  letter,  and  'primaries'  packed  by  ignor 
ant,  whisky-drinking  foreigners  governed  the  elec 
tions.  And  what  could  we  do?  We  were  desperate 
and  the  cry  of  the  desperate  is  to  God.  In  a  week 
every  saloon  in  the  city  where  I  lived  was  closed. 
We  felt  almost  as  if  the  millennial  day  had  come. 
But  the  time  was  not  yet  read}^  for  us  to  sing  the 
song  of  Miriam.  In  less  than  a  j~ear  those  gates  of 
hell  that  we  thought  we  had  closed  forever  were 
opened  wider  than  before.  We  could  not  understand 
it.  Would  this  have  been  if  all  the  voters  who  pro 
fessed  temperance  principle  had  stood  by  us  at  the 
polls?  Could  men  who  did  not  love  the  cause  well 
enough  to  risk  a  little  personal  discomfort  and  in 
convenience  to  themselves  adequately  represent  wo 
men  who  would  have  gladly  died  for  it?  It  was  a 
crisis  for  us  and  our  work,  but  in  that  crisis  a  great 
idea  was  born — the  Woman's.  Christian  Temperance 
Union.  There  are  many  things  I  believe  in  now 
that  I  did  not  believe  in  then.  We  had  much  fallow 
ground  of  ignorance  and  prejudice  to  break  up;  but 
we  did  it  thoroughly,  and  we  sowed  seed — good 
seed.  Who  will  reap  the  harvest?" 

Mrs.  Haviland  paused  an  instant  in  her  rapid  re 
trospection  ,a  shadow  swept  over  her  grand  face,  and 
she  turned  to  Martha  and  clasped  both  her  hands 
with  a  strangely  eager,  earnest  pressure. 


298  Between    Two   Opinions. 

"It  is  to  you  we  look — }Toung,  brave,  earnest  souls, 
to  take  our  places  when  we  fall  in  the  battle.  For 
we  must  fall.  We  are  human;  we  want  to  see  the 
end  for  which  we  have  prayed  and  labored.  But  for 
many  of  us  that  cannot  be.  And  we  know  it;  I 
know  it." 

Her  voice  dropped  lower,  and  the  brief,  detached 
sentences  came  slowly  as  if  wrung  out  by  the  pres 
sure  of  some  inward  suffering. 

Martha  looked  up  at  her  wonderingly. 

"Dear  Mrs.  Haviland;  don't  talk  of  any  one's  fill 
ing  your  place,  least  of  all  one  so  humble  as  myself, 
without  talents,  or  wealth,  or  social  rank." 

"Martha — Miss  Benson,  you  do  not  know  the 
place  you  ma}T  be  filling  twenty  years  from  now. 
What  American  girl  does?'' 

Martha  colored  slightly.  Although  she  was  a  be 
liever  in  woman's  suffrage,  she  was  a  very  unambi 
tious  little  person.  If  Nelson  ever  rose  to  stations 
of  public  honor,  she  felt  that  nothing  would  make 
her  prouder  or  happier  than  to  shine  herself  in  that 
reflected  glory,  but  she  remembered  that  Mrs.  Havi 
land  might  not  know  anything  about  Nelson,  and  be 
even  unaware  of  their  engagement,  in  which  case 
her  words  were  of  course  quite  innocent  of  any  pro 
phetic  intent.  She  made  no  reply  save  to  listen 
with  eager,  reverent  attention  as  the  sweet,  low,  im 
passioned  voice  sounded  on  like  the  notes  of  an  an 
cient  chorus,  half  wail,  half  triumph. 

"I  entered,  the  warfare  like  man}7  another  woman, 
because  I  was  forced  into  it  by  the  presence  of  the 


A   Voice  in  Ramah. 

monster  in  my  own  home.  I  had  only  one  child — 
a  son.  Oh,  how  I  loved  him!  How  I  tried  to  shield 
him  from  every  touch  of  evil!  But  a  taste  for  drink 
was  hereditary  in  the  Haviland  blood,  and  I  did  not 
know  it  till  it  was  too  late.  Perhaps  it  would  have 
made  no  difference  if  I  had  known,  for  how  could 
my  weak  woman's  arms  shield  him  from  the  snare 
set  on  every  side?  I  did  my  best,  and  when  I  could 
do  no  more — when  my  Henry  was  brought  home  to 
me  dead,  killed  by  a  fall  from  his  horse  after  he  had 
been  taking  too  much  wine,  I  knelt  down  by  his  life 
less  form,  and  I  parted  the  curls  away  from  his  cold, 
white  brow,  and  kissed  him  over  and  over  just  as  I 
did  when  I  hushed  him  to  sleep  on  my  bosom  an  in 
nocent  babe.  Oh,  it  seemed  so  long  ago  I  did  it. 
almost  as  though  far  aw^-  in  some  lost  eternity — 
and  I  vowed  to  God  then  and  there  never  to  cease 
fighting  the  fiend  that  had  slain  iny  child.  For  what 
was  m}'  son  more  than  any  other  woman's  son?  more 
than  poor  Bridget  Maloney's,  for  instance,  who  gets 
drunk  on  the  vilest  kind  of  whisky  instead  of  sherry 
and  champagne?  God  made  mothers'  hearts  alike. 
The  Democratic  party  wants  the  Irish  whisk}-  vote, 
and  the  Republican  party  wants  the  German  beer 
vote,  and  politicians  bid  for  it,  and  the  work  of 
death  goes  on.  Give  these  Irish  and  German  women 
who  have  suffered  so  much  from  the  brutality  of 
their  drinking  husbands  the  ballot,  and  though  many 
of  them  drank  themselves,  they  would  all  vote  the 
prohibition  ticket.  My  heart  sickens  and  my  brain 
reels  when  I  think  of  all  the  hideous  wrongs  and 


300  Between    Two   Opinions. 

cruelties  that  have  come  under  my  notice  while  col 
lecting  facts  and  statistics  for  the  work — little  help 
less  children  beaten,  frozen,  starved,  burned  to 
death,  or  made  helpless  cripples  for  life.  They  were 
not  my  children;  I  never  even  saw  them;  but  they 
had  mothers  with  mothers'  hearts,  and  I  feel  like 
crying,  '0  Lord,  how  long!'  Must  wrong  be  forever 
on  the  throne?  Will  the  day  never  come  when  poli 
ticians  shall  cease  to  betray  the  helpless  to  advance 
their  own  petty  selfish  interests?" 

Mrs.  Haviland  paused,  and  then  she  said  in  a 
changed  tone  and  with  her  usual  gentle  smile: 

"I  am  pouring  out  all  this  to  you  because  it  does 
me  good.  I  am  a  woman  and  must  talk.  And  now, 
my  dear,  as  I  am  old  enough  to  be  your  mother,  al 
low  me  to  congratulate  you  on  your  engagement  with 
so  noble  a  young  man  as  Nelson  Newhall.  I  have 
had  my  eye  on  him  for  some  time.  He  is  worthy  of 
you  and  you  of  him." 

There  are  many  prohibitionists  like  Mrs.  Haviland 
who  are  working,  prajdng,  suffering  for  the  cause, 
and  "with  brave  hearts  breaking  slow"  pass  to  their 
rest  in  the  midst  of  the  struggle,  and  never  see  the 
deadly  enemy  that  continually  betrays  their  best  ef 
forts.  In  proof  whereof  we  will  only  say  that  there 
was  a  Masonic  reunion  that  very  night  which  was 
attended  by  the  mayor  of  Jacksonville,  several  poli 
ticians  of  considerable  local  note,  and  a  goodly  num 
ber  of  saloon-keepers.  And  "they  met  upon  the 
level  and  parted  on  the  square"  in  all  that  mutual 
good-fellowship  supposed  to  be  peculiarly  Masonic. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

TWO   WAYS   OF   ASKING    A   QUESTION. 

Both  the  prohibition  and  anti-prohibition  sides 
were  silently  marshalling  their  forces;  and,  while  the 
political  sea  remained  outwardly  calm,  one  at  all 
familiar  with  that  fickle  and  dangerous  element 
would  have  heard  and  felt  the  distant  groundswell 
that  prophesied  of  another  and  still  more  closely 
contested  conflict  than  the  last 

"I  hope  all  prohibitionists  will  unite  in  one  solid 
party  phalanx  and  not  play  at  cross  purposes  any 
longer,"  said  Stephen  Rowland.  "People  may  talk 
about  making  temperance  a  non-partisan  issue  as 
much  as  they  like;  it  won't  alter  the  fact  The  pro 
hibition  question  has  got  into  politics  fairly,  and  all 
the  king's  horses  and  all  the  king's  men  can't  get  it 
out." 

These  remarks  were  addressed  to  a  G-ood  Tem 
plar  who  did  not  vote  the  third  party  ticket  at  the 
previous  election  for  reasons  which  make  an  inter 
esting  subject  of  inquiry.  He  was  a  staunch  prohi 
bitionist  at  heart,  and  had  fully  resolved  to  cast  his 
ballot  for  Col.  Hicks,  till  over  the  hidden  wires  that 
connect  Masonic  lodges  and  Grand  Army  posts  with 
the  secret  temperance  orders,  flashed  the  word: 


302  Between  Two   Opinions. 

"Gen.  Putney  is  a  Mason  and  a  Grand  Army  man, 
and  you  must  vote  for  him." 

Let  not  the  unsuspecting  reader  suppose  that  this 
command  was  ever  orally  communicated  to  the  as 
sembled  lodge.  It  is  one  of  the  blessed  advantages 
of  organized  secrecy  that  no  such  vulgar  and  clumsy 
method  need  be  employed.  It  is  true  that  our  Good 
Templar  and  the  majority  of  his  really  "worthy" 
brethren  cast  their  ballots  exactly  as  their  Masonic 
leaders  told  them  to;  and  yet  so  gently  was  it  insin 
uated  by  those  same  leaders  that  the  idea  of  voting 
for  a  man  they  never  expected  to  elect  was  too  ridic 
ulous  for  sensible  men;  so  solemnly  was  it  set  be 
fore  them  as  a  patriotic  duty,  in  a  crisis  like  the 
present,  to  choose  the  least  of  two  evils,  that  they 
marohed  to  the  polls  and  voted  for  the  Republican 
candidate,  honestly  believing  that  they  were  follow 
ing  their  own  sober  second  thoughts  instead  of  the 
cue  thrown  to  their  chiefs  from  Masonic  headquar 
ters.  In  fact,  Stephen  was  answered  with  one  of  the 
very  stock  arguments  that  had  been  so  successfully 
employed  on  himself  the  year  previous. 

"But  you  know  to  vote  the  third  party  ticket  when 
there  is  no  reasonable  hope  of  electing  it  is  simply 
playing  into  the  hands  of  the  Democrats." 

"There  is  no  hope  just  because  prohibitionists 
don't  unite,"  said  Stephen,  quickly.  "And  as  to 
'playing  into  the  hands  of  the  Democrats,'  better 
open  war  than  secret  betrayal.  I  come  of  old  Re 
publican,  anti-slavery  stock,  and  I  am  proud  of  it, 
but  the  sceptre  has  passed  into  the  hands  of  men 


Two    Ways  of  Asking  a   Question.  303 

who  know  not  Joseph,  leaders  as  stiff-necked  and 
obstinate  as  Pharaoh  ever  was;  and  the  question  is 
whether  we  shall  follow  their  leadership  and  be  all 
destroyed  together  in  a  political  Red  Sea,  or  follow 
the  Moses  of  prohibition  even  if  it  means  a  fort}* 
years  wandering  in  the  desert  before  we  come  to  our 
promised  land." 

Stephen  had  been  brought  up  on  Old  Testament 
history,  and  this  Hebraistic  illustration  came  natur 
ally  to  his  tongue.  In  his  own  mind  Col.  Gail 
Hicks  was  the  prohibition  Moses,  and  he  could  bj* 
no  means  understand  the  pusillanimous  half-heart- 
edness  of  temperance  men  who  would  go  back  on 
such  a  leader.  Why  did  the  Good  Templars  first 
indorse  Col.  Hicks  and  then  vote  solidly  against 
him?  We  have,  however,  presented  the  reader  with 
a  key  to  this  enigma,  and  merel}*  mentioning  that 
the  key  in  question  will  fit  a  great  many  other  puz 
zles,  social  and  political,  we  will  leave  him  to  apply 
it  at  his  leisure. 

A  coming  event  which  is  about  to  startle  Jackson 
ville  already  throws  its  shadow  over  our  pages,  and 
we  must  hasten  on  to  the  denouement. 

Stephen  did  not  procure  a  demit  from  the  Odd 
fellows.  He  wanted  to  see  first  what  could  be  done 
in  Mrs.  Strycker's  case;  and  possibly — 0  vainest  of 
vain  delusions! — his  leaving  the  lodge  might  tend  to 
make  it  worse,  for  where  was  the  purifying  element 
to  come  from  if  all  the  virtuous  members  abandoned 
it?  Would  it  not  be  giving  a  rich  and  powerful  or 
ganization  right  over  into  the  hands  of  the  devil? 


304  "  •   Between  Two  Opinions. 

So  questioned  Stephen,  forgetting  that  an  organiza 
tion  which  professed  uto  give  rest  to  the  soul,"  yet 
rejected  that  Holy  One  in  whom  alone  satisfying 
peace  is  to  be  found,  must  be  of  the  devil  from  the 
beginning;  and  that  even  where  Satan  is  concerned 
it  is  always  best  to  pursue  a  strictly  honest  policy, 
and  if  he  can  show  the  shadow  of  a  claim  to  give 
him  back  his  own  straightway. 

There  is  a  temptation  here  to  make  a  digression. 
What  is  this  talk  so  common  nowadays  in  certain 
circles  about  "purifying  the  stage,"  and  making  even 
the  dance  and  the  card-table  serve  the  cause  of  re 
ligion  and  good  morals  by  bringing  them  into  the 
category  of  home  amusements,  but  a  plan  to  rob  the 
devil  of  his  own  property — that  which  he  can  prove 
by  affidavits  dating  thousands  of  years  back  has  be 
longed  to  him  from  time  immemorial?  Fighting 
the  devil  is  all  right;  it  is  grand  enough  work  for  an 
archangel,  for  Michael  himself,  diamond-panoplied, 
and  wielding  the  lightning  for  his  sword;  but  to 
cheat  the  devil,  to  drive  Shylock  bargains  with  him ! 
— in  the  name  of  common  honor  and  honesty  let  us 
have  none  of  it. 

The  Rev.  Theopilus  Brassfield,  to  whose  church 
Stephen  naturally  gravitated  on  joining  the  lodge, 
preached  sermons  of  a  very  advanced  type  of  theol 
ogy;  so  much  so,  in  fact,  that  he  was  not  only  a 
great  ways  ahead  of  Paul,  but  the  cross  itself 
loomed  dimly  through  his  flowery  sentences  like  a 
beautiful  but  rather  obsolete  symbol  of  something 
that  had  happened  a  great  while  ago,  but  which  the 


Two   Ways  of  Asking  a   Question.  305 

fashionable  congregation  to  whom  he  preached  was 
much  too  "advanced"  to  need.  Eating  husks  when 
it  is  an  altogether  new  thing  may  be  endured  a  while 
for  the  sake  of  the  novelty,  and  there  are  those  who 
are  spiritually  and  mentally  enough  like  donkeys  to 
feed  patientl}'  on  a  daily  course  of  thistles;  but 
Stephen  after  a  time  when  a  Sabbath  proved  rainy, 
or  hoi ,  or  cold,  or  he  had  got  tired  by  sitting  up  too 
late  over  a  law  case  the  night  before,  began  to  find 
that  he  could  get  as  much  good  by  reading  a  sermon 
alone  to  himself.  And  Mr.  Basset,  though  a  mem 
ber  of  this  same  church,  and  superintendent  of  the 
Sunday-school,  never  took  him  too  task  on  the  sub 
ject  as  he  had  done  for  neglect  of  his  lodge  duties. 
Stephen  was  still  moral,  upright  and  manly. 
These  were  inherited  qualities,  and  like  the  color  of 
his  hair  and  the  shape  of  his  nose  could  only  be 
changed  to  opposite  ones  by  some  violent  and  un 
natural  process.  The  hardy,  virtuous  yeoman  race 
who  "had  put  to  flight  the  armies"  of  the  Spanish 
"aliens"  under  Elizabeth,  "subdued  kingdoms"  un 
der  Cromwell,  and  done  more  than  that  when  it 
founded  in  the  untrodden  wilderness  of  the  New 
World  a  theocratic  Commonwealth  which  should  be 
an  ideal  of  free  government  for  all  succeeding  gen 
erations,  had  left  upon  him  their  mental  as  well  as 
their  physical  impress.  His  hatred  of  dissimula 
tion,  his  scorn  of  a  lie,  his  innate  chivalry  to  the 
weak  were  inbred,  and  came  from  the  same  source 
to  which  he  owed  his  six  feet  of  stature,  his  firm 
health  and  supple  sinews.  But  that  New  England 


306  Between   Two   Opinions. 

Hannah,  whose  life,  ever  since  Stephen  was  born, 
had  been  a  daily  pra}'er  that  he  might  be  worthy  of 
sonship  in  Christ's  eternal  kingdom,  knew  that 
heavenly  grace  was  no  hereditary  gift;  that  the  king 
dom  of  which  she  longed  to  have  him  an  heir  must 
be  peopled  by  them  "who  are  born  not  of  blood  nor 
of  the  will  of  the  flesh,  nor  of  the  will  of  man,  but 
of  Grod."  Some  subtle,  spiritual  clairvoyance  told 
her  that  all  was  not  right  with  Stephen;  that  he  was 
keeping  back  something,  and  often  when  writing  to 
him  she  had  half  a  mind  to  put  the  question  direct 
ly,  but  always  shrank  from  doing  so  with  a  feeling 
that  she  had  no  right  to  force  even  her  son's  confi 
dence  in  a  matter  that  perhaps  lay  only  between 
himself  and  God. 

Stephen  parted  from  his  Good  Templar  friend, 
and  stepped  out  from  his  den  to  take  an  airing,  and 
rest  his  head  which  ached  with  being  all  day  in  a 
hot,  ill- ventilated  court-room,  where  a  case  was  on 
trial  that  should  not  have  taken  more  than  a  few 
hours  to  decide;  but,  thanks  to  law  technicalities, 
and  the  fact  that  the  defendant  and  most  of  the  jury 
were  Masons,  seemed  likely  to  last  as  many  days, 
with  an  excellent  prospect  of  coming  to  nothing  in 
the  mazes  of  some  higher  court. 

Passing  the  Jacksonville  Bank  he  saw  before  it  a 
crowd,  mostly  of  the  laboring  class — a  quiet,  orderly 
crowd,  and  yet  with  painful  excitement  manifested 
in  their  faces  and  low-toned  talk.  What  did  it 
mean?  Stephen  was  not  long  left  in  ignorance,  for 
a  passing  acquaintance  hailed  him  with  the  inquiry: 


Two    Ways  of  Asking  a    Question.  307 

Heard   the   news?      The   bank   has    suspended, 
can't  find  the  cashier  nowhere,  nor  a  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand  dollars  of  the  funds." 

Stephen  turned  pale  as  death.  He  had  not  a  cent 
invested  in  that  bank  or  any  other,  and  the  news  in 
volved  no  personal  loss  to  him — but  the  absconding 
cashier  was  no  other  than  Mr.  Felix  Basset. 

"It's  bad  business — will  be  for  a  good  many,  I  am 
afraid,"  continued  the  other.  "He's  been  falsifying 
his  accounts  a  good  while,  and  nobody  suspected  it." 

Stephen's  heart  was  heavy  within  him.  He  grew 
dizz}\  It  was  like  a  moral  earthquake.  Could  this 
be  true  of  a  man  who  had  always  seemed  honest  and 
upright,  who  had  been  so  friendly  to  him,  and  whom 
he  had  trusted  with  the  entire  trust  of  a  frank  and 
unsuspecting  nature?  Yet  there  was  the  crowd,  and 
a  bank  official  on  the  steps  talking  to  them,  though 
it  was  cold  comfort  for  these  poor  laboring  men  and 
women  to  be  told  that  the  law  would  do  what  it 
could  to  recover  their  stolen  property,  in  the  face  of 
the  bad  success  which  had  attended  the  law's  efforts 
in  so  man}'  similar  cases. 

Nelson  Newhall  was  standing  near.  He  turned 
round,  saw  Stephen,  and  nodded  in  recognition. 

"I  hope  you  are  not  one  of  the  losers,"  said 
Stephen,  forgetting  Mr.  Basset  for  a  moment  in  pity 
for  the  many  obliged  to  see  the  hard  earnings  of  a 
lifetime  swept  away. 

"All  I  have  laid  up  was  in  that  bank,"  was  the 
quiet  reply.  "But  those  who  have  work  and  are 
able  to  work  are  not  to  be  pitied.  I  know  an  aged 


308  Between   Two  Opinions. 

couple  whose  all  was  invested  there,  and  now  they 
will  have  to  eat  the  bread  of  public  charity,  which 
will  be  bitterer  to  them  than  death;  and  I  can  tell 
you  of  other  cases  almost  as  sad.  Glod  pity  them." 

"Amen,"  said  Stephen,  and  he  moved  away. 

The  next  scrap  of  talk  which  reached  his  ears  was 
this: 

"Church  members  ain't  a  bit  better  than  folks 
that  ain't.  Things  have  got  to  such  a  pass  now  that 
when  I  hear  of  a  man's  cutting  up  as  Basset  has 
done  I  begin  to  ask  what  Sunday-school  he  is  super 
intendent  of." 

"Come  now,  there's  a  question  more  to  the  point 
than  that,"  gruffly  put  in  another  voice  which 
Stephen  recognized  as  Martin  Treworthy's.  "Bas 
set  was  an  Odd-fellow,  wan't  he?  I  say,  better  ask 
what  secret  society  he  belongs  to." 

It  is  a  curious  fact  that  while  the  press  will  record 
of  a  noted  defaulter — the  secular  part  of  it  with 
great  gusto — that  he  belongs  to  the  church  and 
teaches  in  the  Sunday-school,  he  may  belong  to  the 
Masons,  Odd-fellows,  or  any  other  secret  society, 
and  not  a  word  on  the  subject  be  breathed  by  those 
same  respectable  journals.  And  we  ask  in  the  name 
of  common  fairness,  why  proclaim  the  one  fact,  and 
be  silent  about  the  other? 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THE    TRUE    LIGHT    SHINETH. 

The  crowd  did  not  linger  long  around  the  bank 
when  the  uselessness  of  doing  so  became  apparent. 
They  dispersed  quietly,  and  the  building  was  left  to 
itself,  with  its  closely-drawn  shutters,  barred  doors, 
and  rifled  vaults. 

Stephen,  in  his  first  shocked  bewilderment,  had 
felt  as  if  every  prop  of  trust  in  his  fellow-man  had 
been  knocked  from  beneath  him.  The  facts  proved 
to  be  that  Mr.  Basset  had  speculated  on  a  large 
scale  and  under  an  assumed  name,  and  when  fortune 
turned  against  him  he  had  to  face  two  alternatives: 
discovery  and  the  State's  prison,  or  a  lengthened  ex 
ile  in  some  country  out  of  the  reach  of  extradition 
laws,  leaving  discovery  to  come  afterwards.  Strict 
ly  speaking,  however,  there  was  but  one  alternative 
present  in  Mr.  Basset's  mind — the  one  last  men 
tioned;  and  as  in  the  words  of  the  homely  old  prov 
erb,  "one  might  as  well  die  for  an  old  sheep  as  a 
lamb,"  why  not  crib  enough  of  the  bank's  remaining 
funds  to  enable  him  to  live  comfortably  in  the 
strange  land  he  must'  make  his  future  home?  But 
was  Mr.  Basset  all  those  years  during  which  he  had 
passed  in  society  for  a  Christian  man  and  an  honest 
citizen,  a  conscious  hypocrite?  By  no  means.  He 


310  Between   Two   Opinions. 

had  caught  the  fever  which  seems  almost  indigenous 
to  American  life,  to  get  rich  suddenly,  and  hud  only 
verified  the  words  of  inspiration  that  "he  who 
hasteth  to  be  rich  shall  fall  into- a  snare."  He  had 
gravitated  to  Odd-fellowship  from  the  natural  in 
stinct  of  a  man  of  weak  principle  to  seek  alliance 
with  some  system  that  in  its  "show  of  will  worship," 
its  teachings  of  a  mere  outward  morality  would  flat 
ter  him  with  a  sense  of  self-merit  and  prestige  in  the 
eyes  of  the  world;  and  at  the  same  time  give  him 
what  a  weak  man  always  wants — an  invisible  advan 
tage  over  others.  "But  did  Odd-fellowship  really 
have  much  to  do  with  his  fall?"  inquires  the  "candid 
reader."  We  will  try  to  be  equally  candid  in  our 
answer. 

The  writer  once  heard  it  remarked  on  the  death 
of  "the  oldest  Mason  in  the  country" — one  of  that 
ubiquitous  race  which  the  order  is  continually  bury 
ing,  and  of  whom  we  are  obliged  to  record  that  he 
had  robbed  the  widow  and  cheated  the  fatherless, 
not  on  so  grand  a  scale  as  Mr.  Basset,  but  in  ordin 
ary  business  ways  through  the  greater  part  of  his 
life — that  "Mr.  H —  would  not  have  been  such  a 
rascal  if  he  had  not  belonged  to  the  Masonic  lodge;" 
which  remark  has  a  true  and  a  false  side  to  it.  "Mr. 
H — "  had  a  turn  for  sharp  practices,  and  a  heart 
that  was  like  the  nether  millstone  when  it  was  a 
question  of  his  beloved  dollars-,  but  with  neither  of 
these  two  circumstances  could  the  lodge  be  properly 
chargeable.  It  was  chargeable,  however,  with  being 
a  secret,  oath-bound  organization,  and  as  such  afford- 


The    True  Light   Shineth.  311 

ing  just  the  right  kind  of  covert  for  men  to  hide  un 
der  who  wanted  to  swindle  helpless  cowans,  keep 
saloons,  or  rob  banks;  an  indictment  by  the  way  to 
which  even*  secret  clan  must  answer  sooner  or  later 
at  the  bar  of  an  enlightened  Christian  public.  I 
once  heard  a  physician  express  the  opinion  that  the 
common  use  of  anaesthetics  had  a  deterioriating  in 
fluence  on  physical  bravery.  The  very  knowledge 
that  an  agent  exists  which  will  give  perfect  insensi 
bility  to  pain  takes  away  the  courage  to  bear  severe 
operations,  and  the  same  principle  may  account  for 
some  other  things.  People  lament  the  prevailing 
dishonesty,  the  frauds  and  peculations  too  common 
even  to  excite  surprise,  and  never  stop  to  ask 
whether  the  prevalence  of  secret  societies,  each  with 
their  Masonic  protection  clause,  ma}*  have  anything 
to  do  with  this  state  of  things.  Does  not  the  fact 
that  such  societies  exist,  bound  to  shield  each  other 
against  the  consequences  of  "imprudent"  acts,  vir 
tually  tempt  to  the  commission  of  such  acts  and 
thus  put  a  premium  on  crime?  We  respectfully 
submit  to  all  the  philanthropists,  moralists  and  re 
formers  in  the  land  whether  it  is  well  for  govern 
ment  to  charter  these  institutions  and  then  tax  law- 
abiding  citizens  with  the  enormous  expense  of  fol 
lowing  criminals  through  their  secret  labyrinths  in  a 
vain  attempt  to  bring  them  to  justice.  More  sol 
emnly  would  we  put  the  question  to  every  pastor, 
How  far  is  the  church  responsible  for  the  fact  that 
our  most  noted  forgers  and  defaulters  are  almost 
without  exception  nominal  members  of  her  fold? 


312  .Between   Two   Opinions. 

The  pulpit  is  silent  while  the  young  men  of  the 
country  are  being  drawn  into  the  countless  lodge- 
traps  which  borrow  their  religion  from  the  idolatries 
of  ancient  Egypt,  and  their  laws  from  the  despot 
isms  of  the  dark  ages;  it  lifts  no  voice  of  warning, 
no  announcement  of  future  woe  against  "them  who 
seek  deep  to  hide  their  counsel-  from  the  Lord,  and 
their  works  are  in  the  dark,  and  they  say,  Who 
seeth  us?  and  who  knoweth  us?  Is  it  strange  that 
her  children  fall  an  easy  prey  to  the  masked  de 
stroyer?  that  the  clerk  or  the  cashier  becomes  a 
Mason,  an  Odd-fellow,  a  Knight  of  Pythias,  submits 
to  their  degrading  ceremonies,  adopts  their  "univer 
sal  religion,"  and  finally  startles  the  community 
with  some  gross  betrayal  of  public  or  private  trust? 
Those  readers  who  expect  me  to  heap  maledictions 
on  the  head  of  Mr.  Felix  Basset,  and  pursue  him 
with  scathing  denunciations  for  his  fraud  and 
hypocrisy,  will  be  disappointed.  I  prefer  to  keep 
my  execrations,  richly  though  he  may  deserve  them, 
for  others  more  deserving  than  he — for  those  who 
proselyted  him  to  the  service  of  the  lodge  in  his 
penniless  young  manhood  to  make  him  tenfold  more 
the  child  of  hell  than  themselves,  and  last,  but  not 
least,  for  the  pastor  who  could,  by  officiating  at  its 
Christless  altars,  give  the  lie  to  all  his  pulpit  minis 
trations. 

Stephen  had  not  yet  come  to  the  point  where  he 
saw  these  things  clearly,  but  Martin  Tre worthy's 
brave  defence  of  the  church  against  the  lodge  gave 
him  a  new  respect  for  the  old  soldier;  and  what  did 


The   True  Light  Shineth.  313 

him  no  harm,  an  added  dissatisfaction  with  himself 
who  had  lost  his  right  to  do  the  same. 

He  re-entered  his  office  with  the  feeling  that  it 
was  a  miserable  kind  of  a  world,  shut  his  law  books, 
turned  down  the  gas  and  went  to  bed.  But  refresh 
ing  sleep  after  such  a  mental  shock  was  impossible. 
He  tossed  restlessly  about  thinking  over  his  first 
meeting  with  Mr.  Basset,  how  companionable  and 
kindly  he  had  seemed,  and  how  he  had  urged  him 
to  become  an  Odd-fellow.  He  went  over  in  memory 
the  initiation  scene.  He  did  not  want  to  and  strug 
gled  against  it;  but  in  that  half-sleeping,  half- waking 
state  the  will,  like  some  captive  Arabian  genii,  seems 
the  victim  of  a  power  that  revels  in  setting  it  all 
manner  of  grotesque  tasks.  As  soon  as  he  shut  his 
eyes  he  saw  before  him  the  grinning  skeleton,  the 
lighted  torches,  the  masked  faces;  and  every  time 
they  passed  before  him  the  thing  seemed  more  and 
more  diabolical — like  a  dream  of  infernal  regions. 
And  then  he  seemed  to  be  again  in  the  little  hill- 
country  church  of  his  fathers.  It  was  communion 
Sabbath,  and  the  candidates  for  admission,  himself 
among  them,  were  standing  before  the  table  on  which 
were  displayed  the  simple  emblems  of  our  Lord's 
broken  body  and  shed  blood.  He  saw  the  pastor  at 
the  baptismal  font  as  he  pronounced  the  solemn 
words,  "I  baptize  thee  in  the  name  of  the  Father 
and  of  the  Son  and  of  the  Holy  Ghost."  And  how 
in  its  heavenly  pureness  that  scene  contrasted  with 
the  other!  Like  the  pearl  and  jasper  glory  of  the 
New  Jerusalem  with  the  sulphurous  smoke  of  the  pit. 


314  Between   Two   Opinions. 

He  finally  dropped  into  a  troubled  sleep  and  over 
slept  himself.  And  in  the  hurry  of  getting  ready 
for  the  early  train  (for  he  was  obliged  to  go  away  on 
some  court  business)  he  had  no  time  to  think  of 
troublesome  matters.  And  after  all  why  should  he 
be  troubled?  It  was  sad,  it  cut  him  to  the  heart 
that  a  man  who  had  stood  high  in  the  esteem  of  the 
community  should  turn  out  a  consummate  rogue, 
but  this  was  not  the  first  experience  of  the  kind,  nor 
was  it  likely  to  be  the  last.  Still  he  could  not  dis 
miss  from  his  mind  a  thing  that  everybody  around 
him  was  discussing,  and  which  formed  the  staple 
news  of  the  morning  papers.  He  could  not  help 
overhearing  one  stranger  tell  another  of  a  shocking 
suicide  in  a  neighboring  town,  the  result  of  a  mind 
unbalanced  by  the  loss  of  property  consequent  on 
the  bank's  suspension.  Of  course  it  must  have  been 
a  weak  mind  at  the  outset,  with  no  strong  supports 
in  either  philosophy  or  religion,  but  this  tended  to 
make  the  case  only  more  pitiful. 

"Basset's  safe  in  Canada  by  this  time,"  remarked 
one  of  the  two  strangers,  both  of  whom  had  a  decid 
edly  clerical  look,  and  were  in  reality  two  D.  Ds. 
returning  home  from  a  conference  meeting. 

"Yes,"  returned  the  other.  "All  our  successful 
rogues  will  be  likely  to  make  Canada  their  place  of 
retreat  till  we  can  have  an  extradition  law  that  will 
reach  them.  But  how  a  man  enjoying  so  high  a  de 
gree  of  public  confidence  and  esteem  could  forfeit  it 
all  for  wealth  he  can  never  properly  enjoy  is  a  mys 
tery  that  even  the  power  of  a  sudden  and  overwhelm- 


The   True  Light  Shineth.  315 

ing  temptation  does  not  to  my  mind  full}'  explain. 
I  account  for  it  rather  on  the  ground  of  a  general 
and  widespread  corruption,  a  kind  of  moral  miasma 
that  taints  church  and  state.  One  of  the  unfailing 
signs  of  that  national  decadence  which  ends  as  in 
the  French  Revolution  with  the  wreck  of  all  law  and 
government,  is  the  lack  of  trust  between  man  and 
man,  which  always  follows  where  G-od  is  practically 
dethroned,  as  he  certainly  is  in  our  American  nation 
to-day.  As  a  patriot  and  a  Christian  I  tremble  for 
my  country.  The  public  conscience  needs  a  great 
arousing.  We  want  a  Pentecostal  outpouring  of  the 
Spirit  on  our  sleeping  congregations.  This  nation 
must  be  brought  back  to  the  basis  of  the  ten  com 
mandments,  but  then  that  will  only  be  by  the  lever 
of  a  living  church  behind  it." 

His  companion,  who  wore  glasses,  and  had  a  mild 
Melancthon-like  face,  shook  his  head  in  sorrowful 
assent. 

"You  are  right,  brother.  There  is  too  little  pun 
gent  preaching  on  the  subject  of  common,  everyday 
morals.  We  are  puffed  up  with  denominational  pride 
when  we  ought  rather  to  mourn  our  spiritual  dead- 
ness.  Oh,  that  the  Lord  would  remember  Zion  and 
comfort  again  her  waste  places!'' 

These  ministers  were  good  men.  They  really  felt 
what  they  said  while  they  had  not  the  smallest  idea 
that  they  stood  in  imperative  need  themselves  of  "a 
great  awakening"  on  one  very  important  subject. 
Their  churches  swarmed  with  Masons  and  Odd-fel 
lows,  and  though  the  reverend  doctor  with  ihe  face 


316  Between  Two  Opinions. 

like  Melancthon's  hated  secretism,  lie  bore  no  testi 
mony  against  it.  The  seal  on  his  lips  was  partly  ig 
norance.  He  did  not  know  much  about  the  secret 
orders  and  he  did  not  want  to  know  anything  more 
about  them.  He  believed,  so  he  would  tell  you,  if 
you  hinted  gently  at  his  duty  in  this  regard,  in  the 
expellant  power  of  pure  Gospel  preaching.  And 
while  he  preached  the  Grospel — and  he  certainly  did 
preach  it  and  live  it — women  filled  his  church,  at  the 
same  time  that  their  husbands  and  fathers  and  broth 
ers  were  receiving  a  mock  regeneration  and  new  birth 
in  Mason  and  Odd-fellow  lodges.  And  yet  he  could 
mourn  and  mourn  sincerely  over  the  desolation  of 
Zion! 

But  Stephen  suddenly  forgot  their  talk.  Standing 
on  the  platform,  ready  for  the  northward  bound  ex 
press  train,  stood  two  men,  one  of  whom  carried  a 
carpet-bag,  and  had  a  face  so  covered  with  huge  red 
whiskers  that  scarcely  a  feature  was  distinguishable; 
and  yet  this  one  glimpse  gave  Stephen  a  curious  feel 
ing  of  having  known  him  in  some  long  ago  period, 
as  if  they  had  met  and  become  acquainted  in  some 
pre-existent  state.  It  was  not  till  hours  afterwards 
that  a  strange  suspicion  flashed  through  his  mind. 
Could  this  Esau-like  stranger  have  been  Felix 
Basset? 

There  was  something  peculiar  in  their  parting. 
When  the  red-whiskered  gentleman  had  taken  his 
seat  in  the  car  he  turned  his  face  for  an  instant  to 
the  window  with  an  uneasy  glance  after  his  comrade 
who,  during  the  pause  before  the  starting  of  the 


The  True  Light  Shuieth.  317 

train,  had  walked  up  and  down  the  platform  with 
"keen  reconuoitering  looks  to  the  right  and  left,  and 
now  standing  somewhat  back  from  the  crowd  and 
thus  out  of  the  range  of  observation,  with  one  single 
rapid  motion  he  brought  both  arms  together  from  a 
horizontal  position  and  touched  with  the  index  fin 
ger  of  his  right  hand,  the  other  fingers  being  doubled 
inward,  the  second  knuckle  joint  of  the  thumb  of  his 
left.  Stephen,  we  must  confess,  was  not  a  very 
bright  Odd-fellow,  as,  indeed,  one  cannot  well  be 
who  has  higher  objects  with  which  to  occupy  his 
mind  than  the  remembering  of  signs  and  grips,  and 
though  he  observed  the  action  it  was  done  so  quick 
ly  that  he  failed  to  recognize  it  as — the  Sign  of 
Safety  in  the  Degree  of  Friendship. 

Mr.  Basset  had,  in  fact,  gone  off  a  few  days  be 
fore  the  situation  was  discovered,  but  it  was  only  as 
far  as  the  house  of  a  lodge  brother,  where  he  had 
been  all  the  time  hidden;  and  now  cleverlj*  disguised 
and  within  a  day's  ride  of  the  Canada  line  we  will 
take  our  final  leave  of  him.  But  in  justice  we  must 
say  that  even  with  a  fair  prospect  of  successfully 
eluding  the  officers  of  justice  who  supposed  him  a 
thousand  miles  away,  he  was  a  very  miserable  and 
unhappy  man.  Public  disgrace,  which  but  a  little 
while  before  had  only  loomed  up  in  the  farthest 
background  of  his  mental  visions  as  a  dim  possibil 
ity,  was  now  a  real  thing — as  real  as  the  cold  clutch 
of  Death's  fingers  on  a  soul  unprepared — and  what 
vow  of  a  secret  fraternity  could  stand  between  him 
and  the  inward  avenger? 


318  Between    Two   Opinions. 

But  is  not  this  an  unfair  representation  of  Odd- 
fellowship?  inquires  the  reader.  Because  a  few 
members  defend  criminals  and  uphold  liquor  selling, 
must  it  follow  that  the  whole  order  is  responsible 
for  their  individual  action?  Now  this  is  precisely 
the  point  we  desire  to  come  to.  An  order  that  in 
serts  in  its  obligation  a  protection  clause,  which  can 
be  construed  any  way  according  to  the  moral  sense 
of  the  candidate,  certainly  lays  itself  open  to  grave 
suspicion,  and  honest  men  will  be  in  no  haste  to 
clear  it  from  the  first  charge  till  it  tearsTdown  the 
convenient  screen  between  criminals  and  the  law 
which  it  has  borrowed  from  its  Masonic  mother.  In 
reference  to  the  second  charge,  one  single  fact  will 
suffice. 

In  1870  a  petition  was  presented  to  the  Grand 
Lodge  of  the  United  States  to  enact  a  law  allowing 
State  Grand  Lodges  to  prohibit  members  of  subordi 
nates  under  their  respective  jurisdictions  from  en 
gaging  in  the  traffic  in  intoxicating  liquors.  The 
petition  was  refused,  it  being  decided  that  "it  is  con 
trary  to  the  spirit  and  policy  of  our  institution  to 
pass  any  law  on  the  subject  referred  to,  creaticg  a 
new  test  of  membership  in  the  order."  Thus  we  see 
that  Odd-fellowship  presents  no  more  bar  to  the  ad 
mission  of  a  rum  seller  than  it  does  to  a  Mormon  or 
an  infidel.  We  have  conclusive  testimony  from  one 
of  their  own  standard  writers:  "No  peculiarities  of 
religious  belief  or  practice  are  requisite  to  admission 
in  the  order,  and  none  disqualify." 

In  fact  the  views  of  the  Grand  Lodge  on  the  tern  - 


The.   True  Light  Shineth.  319 

perance  question  might  even  be  accepted  with  very 
slight  changes  as  a  part  of  the  declaration  against 
"sumptuary  laws"  embodied  in  their  political  plat 
form,  as  we  may  learn  by  another  quotation  from 
that  same  standard  authority:  '-Lodges  cannot 
abridge  the  liberty  of  the  citizen  nor  dictate  to  him 
what  he  shall  eat  nor  what  he  shall  drink  .... 
neither  will  the  laws  nor  the  principles  of  Odd-fel 
lowship  descend  to  the  restriction  nor  the  regulation 
of  the  beverage  of  its  members." 

It  is  a  coincidence  worthy  of  note  that  the 
Masonic  Odd-fellow  whom  Mr.  Basset,  as  related  in 
a  prior  chapter,  had  "warned  of  approaching  dan 
ger,"  acting  on  the  familiar  proverb  that  "one  good 
turn  deserves  another,"  now  played  a  chief  part  in 
aiding  and  abetting  the  latter's  escape  from  justice. 
Attached  to  the  fashionable  hotel  which  he  kept  was 
an  elegant  club  room,  where  assembled  every  lodge 
night  the  convivially  inclined  among  the  brethren, 
who  smoked  and  played  cards  till  the  small  hours 
of  the  morning,  and  amused  each  other,  while  sip 
ping  their  glasses  of  wine  and  punch,  with  the  vari 
ous  neat  fictions  about  "important  lodge  work"  by 
which  they  imposed  on  the  credulity  of  their  unsus 
pecting  wives.  Nor  did  this  interchange  of  recipro 
cal  obligations  with  a  professed  prohibitionist  shock 
him  greatly  in  view  of  the  fact  that  he  knew  more 
than  one  in  the  lodge  who  talked  as  stoutly  for  pro 
hibition  as  did  Mr.  Basset,  while  holding  secret  bus 
iness  relations  all  the  while  with  the  very  traffic 
whose  existence  they  affected  to  deplore.  Mr.  Parker 


320  Between    Two    Opinions. 

of  the  Phoenix  House  might  have  listened  silently  to 
the  praise  of  Odd-fellowship  as  a  temperance  order, 
and  even  as  a  matter  of  prudent  policy  gravely  as 
sented,  but  he  would  have  certainly  indulged  him 
self  in  a  good  laugh  behind  his  informant's  back  at 
the  absurdity  of  the  idea. 

Odd-fellowship  is  Masonry's  first  born,  made  in 
her  image,  and  if  anybody  wishes  a  conclusive  proof 
that  this  is  so  let  him  attack  Masonry  and  then  note 
the  filial  readiness  of  the  average  Odd-fellow  to 
spring  to  her  relief. 

Stephen  Howland  felt  as  every  truly  upright  soul 
must  over  the  fall  of  another,  intensely  sorrowful; 
and  his  trust  in  what  the  Rev.  Theophilus  Brassfield 
had  so  often  styled  "a  complete  system  of  moralit}'" 
was  sadly  shaken.  He  was  in  exactly  the  mood  of 
mind  which  has  lead  many  a  man  into  downright 
skepticism  of  all  good.  Such  an  experience  must 
either  drive  the  soul  to  take  a  firm  foothold  on  the 
Rock  of  Ages,  or  to  launch  its  little  cockle-boat  on 
that  wide  sea  of  doubt  whose  farthest  shores  are  the 
Cimmerian  land  of  blank  atheism  where  hope  is  a 
myth,  and  faith  a  dream,  and  the  whole  universe  a 
vast  hollow  Nothing. 

The  illness  of  a  juror  caused  a  temporary  adjourn 
ment  of  the  court.  Stephen  was  ttying  to  while 
away  the  time  over  a  newspaper  when  the  opposing 
counsel  sauntered  up. 

He  belonged  to  the  Bohemian  class  of  lawyers, 
and  considered  no  case  out  of  the  legitimate  line  of 
his  practice  which  involved  a  big  fee,  or  even  one  of 


The  True  Light  Shineth.  321 

reasonable  size.  He  considered  Stephen's  notions 
of  professional  honor  and  probity  as  decidedly  Quix 
otic,  but  such  men  have  sometimes  a  curious  liking 
for  their  moral  opposites;  and  though  frequently 
pitted  against  each  other,  they  were  much  better 
friends  than  one  could  suppose  possible  after  listen 
ing  to  their  savage  sparring  in  court  hours. 

"It  was  a  queer  thing  now  that  Basset  should  do 
as  he  did.  It  come  like  a  thunder-clap,  but  there  is 
an  epidemic  just  now  of  defalcations  and  embezzle 
ments  and  forgeries.  Such  things  seem  to  have 
their  regular  periods  like  the  seventeen-year  lo 
custs." 

"It  would  be  refreshing  if  we  could  have  an  epe- 
demic  of  public  honesty,"  returned  Stephen,  dryly. 

"I  think  the  same,  my  dear  fellow — in  the  ab 
stract,  you  know.  But  for  us  lawyers — phew! — it 
would  be  as  bad  as  an  epedemic  of  health  to  the 
doctors.  Now  you  take  this  liquor  trade;  it  is  a 
confounded  bad  thing  all  through,  but  if  it  should 
be  swept  out  of  existence  to-day  I  snould  lose  half 
my  practice.  I  defend  rumsellers  and  you  prose 
cute,  but,  bless  you!  the}~'d  better  fall  into  your 
clutches  than  mine.  I  bleed  'em  well  now,  I  tell 
you.  I  took  a  five  hundred  dollar  fee  from  one  the 
other  da}*,  and  I  don't  believe  he  had  enough  left  to 
start  him  in  the  boot-blacking  business." 

The  lawyer  stopped  to  laugh,  and  Stephen  could 
not  help  laughing  too. 

"I  have  had  curious  things  happen  in  the  course 
of  my  legal  practice,"  the  former  continued,  "but 


322  Between   Two   Opinions. 

nothing  queerer  than  what  happened  once  in  this 
very  court-house  when  I  was  defending  two  liquor 
sellers  arrested  for  violation  of  the  Sunday  law. 
You  know  the  old  saying,  'There's  no  telling  how  a 
jury  will  flop.'  If  you  will  believe  it,  with  exactly 
the  same  evidence  in  both  cases  one  was  acquitted 
and  the  other  fined  seventy-five  dollars.  I  found 
out  afterwards  that  the  one  acquitted  belonged  to 
some  secret  society — the  Noble  Order  of  Red  Men,  I 
think  it  was — and  his  friends  managed  to  get  a  juror 
or  two  who  belonged  to  the  fraternity  onto  the 
bench.  Six  were  Masons  and  Odd-fellows.  The 
other  rumseller  was  a  poor  devil  of  an  Irishman, 
forbidden  any  such  privilege  under  ban  of  his 
priest." 

"It  is  a  privilege  that  if  often  used  to  mock  jus 
tice  will  bring  in  a  reign  of  lynch  law  sooner  or 
later,"  said  Stephen,  indignantl}7.  "I  believe  in 
equal  rights  and  fair  play  even  for  liquor  sellers." 

The  other  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"This  secret  order  business  is  overdone.  It  is 
our  American  failing  to  overdo  things.  When  I  was 
first  admitted  to  the  bar  I  joined  the  Masons  and  the 
Odd-fellows  and  the  Knights  of  Pythias,  thinking 
that  when  I  was  in  Rome  I  had  better  do  as  the 
Romans  do.  And  I  can  walk  in  their  processions, 
and  wear  their  fol-de-rols,  and  have  a  chief  seat  at 
all  their  feasts  and  pow-wows  generally — if  I  want 
to;  but  as  a  rule  I  contrive  to  find  other  fish  to  fry. 
Really  now,  between  you  and  me — hark!  what's 
that?" 


The   True  Light  Shineth.  323 

It  was  a  sound  of  fife  and  drum.  Stephen,  from 
his  boyhood,  had  a  passionate  love  for  martial 
music,  and  the  inspiring  strains  seemed  for  a  mo 
ment  like  the  wings  of  some  strong  archangel  lifting 
him  above  all  his  trouble  and  darkness  into  a  realm 
of  which  his  only  conscious  thought  was  like  Peter's 
on  the  mount — that  it  would  be  good  to  dwell  there. 

"A  detachment  of  the  Salvation  Army,  they  say," 
carelessly  remarked  the  other  lawyer,  after  making 
due  inquir)T  of  one  of  the  throng  who  were  bending 
their  steps  in  the  direction  of  the  nusic.  "I'm  going 
to  hear  'em." 

Stephen  followed  with  a  readiness  that  surprised 
himself,  for  he  was  somewhat  of  a  stickler  for  regu 
lar  methods;  and,  though  he  did  not  doubt  that  the 
Salvation  Army  had  accomplished  good  in  its  pecul 
iar  way,  he  had  looked  on  a  conversion  under  such 
instrumentality  a  little  as  he  might  on  a  miraculous 
cure  wrought  by  some  practitioner  outside  of  medi 
cal  schools — rather  as  a  phenomena  than  a  prece 
dent.  But  the  stirring  music,  the  odd  and  }'et  deep 
ly  devout  appearance  of  the  company,  as  in  fine  mil 
itary  order  they  marched  through  the  street  with 
waving  banners,  and  defiled  on  to  the  common  where 
a  rude  platform  had  been  erected — even  the  unman 
nerly  interruption  of  a  few  rowdies  in  the  crowd,  im 
pressed  Stephen  with  a  deeper  feeling  than  that  of 
mere  novelty.  The  effect  of  their  warlike  songs, 
their  regular-drilled  tread,  their  earnest  faces,  was 
something  like  that  produced  by  the  early  Methodist 
movement.  It  seemed  to  sharpen  and  define  the 


324  Between   Two   Opinions. 

lines  which  an  ease-loving  pulpit  has  allowed  to 
grow  so  dim  and  misty  between  the  Lord's  side  and 
the  devil's  side.  And  to  Stephen's  positive  nature 
it  was  a  relief  to  feel  sure  once  more  that  there  were 
two  sides,  even  though  he  was  not  equally  sure  of 
being  himself  on  the  right  one. 

The  preacher  announced  no  text.  Stephen  noticed 
that  he  seemed  to  be  a  very  well  developed  specimen 
of  muscular  Christianity,  and  was  evidently  an  illit 
erate  man;  but  after  the  first  words  fell  on  his  ear 
he  felt  that  he  was  standing  in  the  presence  of  one 
of  those  rare  orators  made  by  grace  and  not  by  art 
or  nature,  and  ceased  to  feel  any  repugnance.  Not 
a  suspicion,  however,  crossed  his  mind  that  this  was 
Peter  Snyder,  the  converted  rumseller,  who  had 
joined  the  Salvationists  because  they  afforded  a 
channel  for  free  and  effective  Christian  labor,  which 
he  could  never  have  found  in  the  set  lines  of  old  and 
respectable  religious  organizations.  He  had  no  cul 
tured  taste  to  be  shocked  by  their  peculiar  methods 
of  work,  and  they  on  their  part  did  not  mind  his  lit 
erary  and  theological  deficiencies.  But  there  was 
no  loud,  ranting  talk,  only  a  deep,  sweet  earnest 
ness,  a  perfect  unconsciousness  of  himself  that  pro 
duced  an  effect  like  the  highest  pulpit  art. 

"I  want  to  tell  you  folks  about  Jesus  Christ,"  he 
began.  "You  think  you  know  about  him  already 
Maybe  some  of  you  do,  and  if  that  is  so,  you  hain't 
no  kind  of  business  to  be  standing  round  here  when 
you  ought  to  be  telling  other  people  about  him.  Or 
hain't  you  got  nothing  to  tell?  Didn't  he  hang 


The   True  Light  Shineth.  325 

bleeding  on  the  cross  with  the  nails  in  his  feet  and 
hands  and  the  spear  thrust  through  his  side  for  you? 
I  want  to  know. 

"But  as  I  suid  when  I  begun,  it's  t'other  kind  I'm 
a  goin'  to  talk  to.  The  Lord  is  coming  with  all  his 
armies  and  riding  on  his  swift  chariots  of  salvation, 
and  you  resist  him  jest  as  I  did,  a  heapin'  up  sin 
against  sin  to  be  fuel  in  that  da}'  which  shall  burn 
as  an  oven.  But  I  ain't  a  goin'  to  talk  to  you  about 
my  sins,  for  the  Lord  has  cast  'em  all  behind  his 
back;  and  I  ain't  a  goin'  to  talk  to  you  about  your 
sins.  Maybe  I  shall  come  to  'em  by  and  by.  Peo 
ple  like  to  tell  what  they  know  about.  Now  I  know 
about  the  Lord  Jesus  for  1  have  seen  him!" 

The  speaker  made  a  pause.  A  startled  hush  fell 
on  the  crowd.  Stephen  at  first  thought  the  man 
crazy,  and  was  half  inclined  to  walk  off,  but  curi 
osity  impelled  him  to  stay. 

"It  was  at  a  big  meeting  over  to  the  Forks.  The 
Lord  was  there  in  power,  and  he  showed  himself  to 
me — a  hardened,  profane,  swearing  ruinseller.  That's 
jest  what  I  was,  and  do  you  wonder  that  I  am  never 
tired  of  telling  about  his  goodness?  that  I  only  wish 
I  had  a  hundred  tongues  instead  of  one  to  praise 
him  with?  Now  the  Bible  says  the  Lord  is  every 
where  beholding  the  evil  and  the  good,  but  he  don't 
show  himself  where  men  revile  and  hate  him,  nor  it 
ain't  reasonable  he  should.  Why,  he  is  in  lots  of 
places  to-day  where  you  might  wait  till  you  were  as 
old  as  Methusalah  and  never  catch  a  glimpse  of  the 
hem  of  his  garment.  A  man  may  be  standing  at  a 


326  Between   Two    Opinions. 

bar  or  handling  dirty  cards  and  be  converted.  I 
don't  say  such  a  thing  hain't  never  happened,  but  I 
do  say  there's  a  thousand  times  better  chance  of  his 
being  struck  by  lightning.  There's  one  place  where 
I  never  heard  of  a  man's  seeing  the  Lord — I  don't 
believe  the  angel  Gabriel  ever  did — and  that's  the 
lodge.  Masons  and  Odd-fellows  get  converted 
sometimes,  but  it's  always  outside  of  their  lodges. 
Now  what's  the  reason?  Why,  the  lodge  hain't  got 
no  Jesus  Christ  in  it.  It's  death  to  darkness  to  let 
in  the  light,  and  any  lodge  that  should  let  him  in 
wouldn't  live  an  hour.  It  would  be  changed  into  a 
prayer  meeting,  and  all  the  members  would  be  sing 
ing,  'Glory,  glory!'  as  loud  as  they  could  sing," 

At  this  point  a  drunken  Freemason  made  some 
attempt  at  interruption,  but  before  the  disturbance 
had  time  to  spread,  Captain  Snyder — we  will  give 
him  his  Salvation  Army  title — said  quietly,  "We 
will  sing  it  now,"  and  signalling  to  the  drummer 
the  army  pealed  forth  one  of  their  most  stirring 
choruses.  The  Salvationists  have  certainly  this  ad 
vantage,  if  their  opponents  can  make  noise  they  usu 
ally  know  how  to  make  more.  But  so  naturally  was 
it  done  that  the  greater  part  of  the  audience  really 
thought  it  only  a  part  of  the  ordinary  exercises.  It 
was  a  kind  of  tactics,  however,  that  proved  very  suc 
cessful,  the  would-be  disturbers  not  caring  to  strain 
their  lungs  in  such  an  unequal  contest. 

Stephen  saw  through  the  ruse,  and  smiled.  Cer 
tainly  he  thought,  "music  hath  charms  to  soothe  the 
savage  breast" — when  there  is  enough  of  it. 


The   True  Ldght  Shineth.  327 

"Maybe,  now,  you  want  to  know  what  I  went  to 
that  meeting  for,"  the  captain  continued,  wiping  his 
forehead  with  a  red  cotton  handkerchief.  "I  went 
to  hear  the  preacher  show  up  other  folks'  sins.  I 
never  dreamed  he'd  put  his  grappling  hooks  right 
into  mine,  fust  thing.  I  knew  my  trade  was  a  wrong 
one;  I  knew  it  was  destroj'ing  my  soul;  and  I  had 
my  times  of  feeling  bad  about  it  and  promising  my 
self — it  was  myself,  not  the  Lord,  mind  ye — that  I'd 
quit  it  jest  as  soon  as  I'd  sold  what  stock  I'd  got  on 
hand.  But  when  that  time  come  I  was  no  more 
ready  to  quit  it  than  the  devil  was  to  quit  me.  He'd 
stand  at  my  elbow  and  say,  'Ain't  Government  in 
with  you  in  this  business,  I  want  to  know;  and  do 
you  pretend  to  be  any  better' n  Government?'  Some 
times  the  devil  speaks  living  truth.  Rumsellers 
tempt  men  to  drink:  who  tempts  the  rumseller?  I'd 
like  to  ask  some  of  our  big  men  in  Washington  that 
question  jest  to  see  what  thej^'d  say.  But  the  Lord 
had  shet  me  up  in  too  tight  a  place  for  even  the 
devil  to  squeeze  in  and  try  to  make  me  think  I  was 
better  than  I  was.  Some  people  say  there  ain't  no 
sich  place  as  hell.  What  do  you  think  it  is  to  be 
shet  up  where  you  can't  see  nothing  but  pictures  of 
yourself — what  you've  been  and  what  you  are,  the 
meanest,  wickedest,  most  God-forsaken  wretch  that 
walks  the  earth — and  know  you've  got  to  sit  there 
and  gaze,  gaze,  GAZE  forever,  and  see  no  way  out! 
"What  is  it  to  see  the  faces  of  all  the  widows  and 
orphans  you've  made  rise  up  before  you  as  cold  and 
still  as  the  face  of  the  dead  before  a  murderer;  and 


328  Between    Two   Opinions. 

all  the  men  who  have  drank  themselves  into  delir 
ium  tremens  at  your  bar,  like  avenging  fiends  laugh 
ing  horribly  at  your  misery!  Don't  tell  a  man  that's 
been  in  sich  a  place  as  that  there's  no  hell.  Oh, 
there  is  sich  a  thing  as  the  bottomless  pit!  Don't 
believe  the  ministers  dressed  out  in  fine  broadcloth, 
with  gold  rings  on  their  fingers,  who  try  to  make 
you  believe  there  ain't;  but  oh,  every  poor,  wretched 
soul,  living  on  in  sin  and  despair,  there's  something 
else  that's  bottomless,  and  that  God's  love  to  you. 
And  I've  got  jest  the  same  right  to  tell  }^ou  this  that 
I  have  to  tell  you  the  other  thing.  A  man  that's 
seen  the  Lord  knows  what  God's  'so  loved  the  world' 
means.  Nobody  else  can.  It  seemed  to  me  then  if 
I  could  be  shet  out  of  my  misery  one  second  it 
would  be  like  the  drop  of  water  the  rich  man  in  hell 
prayed  for  to  cool  the  tip  of  his  tongue.  There's  a 
mighty  sight  of  difference  between  feeling  you're  a 
sinner,  and  feeling  you're  a  lost  sinner.  I  jest  give 
up.  The  Almighty  had  hold  of  me,  and  who  can 
struggle  with  the  Almighty?  And  jest  as  soon  as  I 
had  done  that  the  vision  of  my  sins  was  gone,  but 
right  in  the  place  where  I  had  seemed  to  see  'em  all 
pictured  out,  I  see  a  cross,  and  One  was  hanging  on 
it,  and  there  was  the  nails  in  his  feet  and  hands.  I 
could  see  'em  jest  as  plain.  And  oh,  how  loving 
and  pitiful  he  looked  at  me! — me,  that  had  hated 
and  reviled  him  all  my  days.  There  he  was  a  dying 
for  my  sins.  Why,  I  felt  as  though  I'd  be  glad  to 
go  and  be  nailed  on  a  cross  beside  him  like  the  pen 
itent  thief  if  that  would  show  how  sorry  I  felt  for 


The   True  Light  Shineth.  329 

'em.  How  long  do  you  think  I  held  on  to  my  rum 
kegs  arter  that?  Oh,  it  is  a  look  right  into  the  face 
of  Jesus  Christ  that  makes  the  rumseller  give  up 
his  bar,  and  the  drunkard  his  cups,  and  the  swearer 
his  oaths.  How  quick  every  one  of  you  sinners 
standing  here  would  throw  down  your  arms  and  sur 
render  if  you  could  once  see  the  Lord!  You  may 
not  be  bad  in  3*our  own  sight  or  other  folks'.  You 
may  not  sell  rum  nor  drink  it;  nor  swear,  nor  cheat, 
nor  gamble,  but  if  }~ou've  never  seen  the  Lord  Jesus 
it  is  because  some  sin  has  stood  in  the  way.  You 
know  what  that  sin  is  and  the  Lord  knows.  I  don't. 
But  oh,  you  poor  sinner,  throw  away  that  weapon 
with  which  you  are  fighting  the  Lord!  It  is  the 
spear  you  are  thrusting  into  his  side.  When  you 
look  on  him  whom  you  have  pierced  it'll  be  turned 
against  you.  The  Gospel  trumpet  is  sounding  for 
recruits;  bimeby  it'll  sound  for  judgment.  Come  to 
the  Lord  and  be  saved.  Come  now." 

He  proceeded  for  some  time  in  the  same  strain  of 
earnest,  homely  eloquence.  Stephen,  after  awhile, 
assisted  by  a  chance  word  from  some  one  in  the 
crowd,  had  recognized  Peter  Snyder  in  the  impas 
sioned,  uugrammatical  preacher.  But  it  scarcely 
made  any  difference  in  the  effect  of  the  message. 

What  did  it  mean — this  strange  troubling  of  the 
waters  of  his  soul?  Could  it  be  that  he  had  de 
ceived  himself?  that  he  had  never  seen  that  glorious, 
thorn-crowned  Face?  Or  why  did  all  his  being  go 
out  in  a  strange  yearning  after  that  Vision  of  celes 
tial  loveliness?  Why  this  bitter  longing^  as  for  a 


330  Between   Two  Opinions. 

treasure  he  had  lost  and  never  missed  till  now? 

With  drums  beating  and  banners  flying  the  Salva 
tion  Army  marched  back  to  their  barracks,  to  meet 
an  impediment  by  the  way  in  the  shape  of  zealous 
policemen  who  arrested  the  leader  and  several  of  the 
musicians  for  obstructing  public  travel — a  vigilance 
truly  edifying  in  the  light  of  the  immunity  enjoyed 
by  other  violaters  of  the  law,  who  did  not  indeed 
parade  the  streets  beating  drums  or  singing  hymns, 
but  who  ran  illicit  saloons  unmolested  under  the 
very  eyes  of  these  watchful  public  guardians. 

Stephen  offered  his  services  in  their  defense,  feel 
ing  justly  indignant  at  what  he  considered  an  out 
rage  on  equal  rights  by  the  authorities  who  freely 
allowed  public  parades  of  firemen,  military  compan 
ies,  and  secret  societies  of  all  descriptions,  and  of 
course  brought  upon  himself  anew  the  name  among 
his  fellow  lawyers  of  being  a  legal  Quixote,  besides 
causing  "the  whirligig  of  time"  to  bring  round  som,e 
curious  "revenges."  The  man  he  had  prosecuted 
for  selling  rum  he  was  now  defending  for  preaching 
the  Gospel! 

Stephen  did  not  at  first  analyze  his  feelings,  or 
ask  why  the  light  of  God's  Spirit  had  been  so  well- 
nigh  extinguished  in  his  heart.  But  there  is  a  say 
ing  of  Pascal's  in  his  Provincial  Letters  which  ap 
plies  equally  well  to  that  system  of  error  embodied 
in  the  lodge,  as  proved  by  the  revulsion  of  feeling 
with  which  a  member  after  he  has  been  converted 
or  received  a  new  consecration  of  the  Spirit,  invari 
ably  regards  it:  "There  are  two  things  in  the  truths 


The  True  Light  Shineth.  331 

of  our  religion — a  divine  beaut}*  which  renders  them 
lovely  and  a  holy  majesty  which  makes  them  vener 
able;  and  there  are  two  peculiarities  in  error — an  im 
piety  which  renders  them  horrible,  and  an  imperti 
nence  which  makes  them  ridiculous."  Stephen  was 
not  exactly  like  Little  Faith,  robbed  by  force  of  his 
jewel  of  heavenly  hope.  He  was  more  like  the  sim 
ple  savage,  who  exchanges  his  pearl  for  a  glass 
bead.  He  knew  that  his  religious  affections  had 
grown  cold,  that  he  had  lost  his  relish  for  divine 
things,  and  when  he  found  himself  turning  with  a 
kind  of  horror  from  the  thought  of  attending  an 
other  Odd-fellow's  meeting  and  associating  with 
men  of  such  diversified  moral  and  religious  creeds 
as  there  assembled;  when  he  remembered  the  two 
contrasting  visions  that  had  besieged  his  sleepless 
pillow,  he  saw  the  reason  why.  What  a  "beauty" 
and  "venerableness"  in  the  simple  ceremonials  of 
the  Christian  church!  and  beside  them  how  horrible 
and  ridiculous  seemed  the  masquerades  of  lodge 
initiations! 

To  apply  for  a  demit  and  leave  the  lodge  forever 
was  the  one  desire  now  in  Stephen's  mind.  "Come 
out  and  be  ye  separate"  seemed  to  sound  like  an 
audible  command  in  his  ears.  "What  concord  hath 
Christ  with  Belial?  or  what  part  hath  he  that  be- 
lieveth  with  an  infidel?" 

His  request,  however,  was  received  with  strong 
demurrers,  which  in  the  case  of  a  few  of  the  mem 
bers  took  a  form  nearly  allied  to  threats. 

"Now  what  should  you  want  to  leave  us  for?" 


332  Between  Two   Opinions. 

asked  one.  "Haven't  you  always  been  treated  well 
by  the  lodge?" 

"I  have  no  fault  to  find  on  that  score,"  said 
Stephen,  briefly.  "My  reasons  for  withdrawing 
have  already  been  stated." 

"Now  I  tell  you,  in  your  peculiar  situation  as  a 
temperance  lawyer  fighting  the  liquor  party  all  the 
time,  you  need  the  protection  of  the  lodge,  and  if 
you  leave  it  you  run  more  risk  than  you  think." 

This  warning  came  from  a  man  prominent  in  the 
Van  Grilder  clique,  and  Stephen,  considering  the 
source  from  which  it  proceeded,  did  not  mind  it 
much  till  it  was  repeated  in  various  terms  by  others 
of  much  higher  social  respectability.  His  naturally 
independent  spirit  cared  very  little  for  these  undis 
guised  attempts  at  intimidation,  bulb  it  showed  him 
still  another  side  of  this  many-sided  order.  It  was 
willing  then  to  protect  an  honest  man  in  his  warfare 
against  evil,  but  he  must  buy  that  protection  in  the 
same  way  a  rogue  buys  his  immunity  from  the  grasp 
of  justice — by  paying  dues  and  learning  signs  and 
grips!  He  wrote  a  long  letter  home — a  letter  which 
caused  much  astonishment  in  the  Howland  home 
stead — in  which  he  thus  alluded  to  his  experience 
in  the  lodge  the  night  he  took  his  withdrawal  card: 

"I  only  did  what  I  had  a  perfect  right  to  do,  yet 
many  in  the  lodge  have  taken  great  offense  at  the 
step.  To  be  sure  they  are  the  least  respectable 
members,  but  they  are  the  very  ones  with  the  will  to 
do  me  harm.  Honestly,  such  were  the  looks  and 
demeanor  of  some  of  those  men  towards  me  that  I 


The  True  Light  Shineth.  333 

should  extremely  dislike  the  idea  of  meeting  them 
alone  in  the  woods  on  a  dark  night." 

"To  think  Stephen  should  have  joined  the  Odd 
fellows!  Who'd  have  thought  it!  Would  you, 
mother?" 

This  was  Mr.  Josiah  Rowland's  first  observation. 

"Not  that  exactly,"  answered  Mrs.  Phcebe,  as  she 
folded  the  letter  with  hands  that  trembled,  "but  you 
know,  father,  we've  both  of  us  been  a  little  troubled 
for  fear  Stephen  might  have  backslidden,  and  lately 
I  have  been  filled  with  such  deep  concern,  and  my 
whole  soul  has  been  so  drawn  out  to  agonize  with 
the  Lord  for  him  that  I  have  felt  sure  he  was  in 
some  kind  of  a  snare." 

There  is  such  a  thing  as  spiritual  second  sight. 
Mrs.  Phoebe  was  one  thus  gifted,  and  her  husband 
reverenced  it  in  her  as  something  he  did  not  himself 
possess,  and  did  not  quite  understand.  He  had 
"lathered"  his  face  preparatory  to  shaving,  and  now 
he  stood  before  the  little  ten  by  twelve  looking-glass 
thoughtfully  "stropping"  his  razor. 

"But  I  never  dreamed  Stephen  would  ever  be 
trapped  into  any  of  these  godless  secret  societies," 
he  repeated,  the  idea  every  time  he  thought  of  it 
seeming  to  come  with  a  fresh  surprise. 

"Why  not  Stephen  as  soon  as  any  one?"  queried 
Mrs.  Phoebe  Howland,  as  she  put  the  letter  away, 
and  went  quietly  about  some  household  task. 

"Well,  I  don't  know  why,"  returned  Mr.  Josiah,  as 
if  this  was  a  new  view  of  the  matter;  "only  I  thought 
we  hacl  trained  him  better  than  that" 


334  Between  Two   Opinions. 

"Maybe  the  Lord  is  training  him  now,  father." 

Mr.  Josiah  pondered  this  over  while  he  was  shav 
ing,  as  was  his  fashion  of  pondering  his  wife's  say 
ings.  These  expressions  of  her  finer  spiritual  na 
ture  that  would  never  in  the  world  have  occurred  to 
him,  found  a  ready  soil  of  appreciation  in  his  heart 
where  they  blossomed  in  higher  faith  and  profound- 
er  trust,  for  he  had  a  timid  and  doubting  side,  and 
with  all  his  New  England  patrimony  of  shrewd  com 
mon  sense  it  was  beautiful  to  see  how  in  every  diffi 
culty  he  turned  to  her  clearer  insight  for  counsel. 
"Somehow  Phoebe  could  always  see  into  things,"  he 
would  say. 

"Maybe  that's  so,  mother.  But  I  can't  help  feel 
ing  afraid  for  Stephen.  Perhaps  he  stands  in  no 
danger  from  the  Odd-fellows,  but  one  can't  tell  in 
these  secret  societies,  and  I  do  wish  he'd  kept  clear 
of  them.  They  may  do  something  to  him  yet.  And 
there's  the  liquor  men,  they  are  dreadfully  rampant 
out  there.  I  was  reading  in  the  paper  only  yester 
day  how  they  set  on  a  young  temperance  attorney 
in  one  place  and  beat  him  most  to  death. 

Mrs.  Phoebe  Howland  grew  a  trifle  paler  at  these 
words,  and  drew  her  breath  quick  like  one  stabbed 
by  sharp  and  sudden  pain.  Then  she  stood  straight 
up  before  her  husband  with  a  deep,  solemn  light  in 
her  dark  eyes. 

"Father,  you  and  I  gave  Stephen  to  the  Lord  as 
soon  as  he  was  born.  When  did  we  ever  take  back 
the  gift?" 

Mr.  Josiah  finished  shaving  in  silence. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

THE    AVENGER. 

Jesse  Dukes  was  sitting  in  his  low  cabin  door. 
The  river  flowed  past  with  a  sweet,  hardly  definable 
murmur;  the  woods  were  a  ring  of  emerald  set 
against  sapphire;  a  soft  wind  just  stirred  their 
leaves  with  a  faint,  spirit- like  motion;  the  light 
wreaths  of  smoke  which  ascended  from  his  pipe 
seemed  only  a  part  of  all  this  tranquil  beauty;  and 
the  figure  of  the  trapper  himself  as  he  sat  leaning 
back,  his  eyes  half-closed,  and  every  muscle  relaxed 
in  lazy  enjoyment  of  the  fine  weather,  presented  no 
disturbing  element  in  the  scene.  In  fact  Jesse 
Dukes  came  of  a  race  who  are  gifted  with  far  more 
of  the  Italian  dolce  far  niente  than  of  the  Yankee 
restlessness  and  vim,  and  think  nothing  of  taking 
their  time  to  smoke  and  sleep  out  of  any  part  of  the 
day  which  suits  them  best.  He  knew  that  one  his 
traps  needed  mending,  and  by  and  by  he  was  going 
to  attend  to  it.  Meanwhile  he  felt  in  no  hurry. 
The  summer  days  were  long  in  his  little  cabin,  and 
there  would  be  plenty  of  time  to  smoke  his  pipeful 
of  tobacco  before  he  set  to  work. 

He  was  not  ill-supplied  with  reading  matter,  such 
as  it  was.  Copies  of  some  ancient  magazine  lent 


336  Between  Two  Opinions. 

him  by  the  neighbors  lay  piled  up  on  his  rude  table, 
and  from  the  same  source  he  often  received  the  loan 
of  an  old  newspaper.  If  a  month  or  even  a  year 
had  intervened  since  the  date  of  publication,  it  made 
no  difference.  He  read  it  with  as  much  interest. 

The  mountaineer  of  the  Southwest  is  by  nature  a 
fierce  political  partisan,  and  retains  the  freshness  of 
first  convictions  to  an  extent  apt  to  waken  a  smile  in 
places  where  the  mail  comes  daily,  and  the  constant 
shifting  of  factions,  reversing  to-morrow  the  posi 
tions  they  hold  to-day,  and  uniting  to-day  on  ques 
tions  at  which  they  were  at  sword's  points  yester 
day,  so  often  makes  the  average  voter  doubtful  of 
his  real  standing  place.  Nowhere  else  can  be  found 
the  genuine  Andrew  Jackson  Democrat,  who,  in  his 
fealty  which  is,  like  that  of  an  old  French  Legitimist, 
less  to  a  person  than  an  idea,  cannot  be  made  to 
realize  that  the  party  has  chosen  new  gods  to  go  be 
fore  it.  And  it  has  its  pathetic  as  well  as  its  amus 
ing  side — this  stubborn  tenacity  with  which  he  will 
hold  on  to  principles  which  that  party  has  long  cast 
out  of  its  platform,  and  be  ready  to  fight  to  the 
death  for  a  political  leader,  years  after  that  leader 
has  stepped  out  of  the  ranks  of  the  living.  Jesse 
Dukes  came  of  such  a  family.  He  was  one  himself 
and  gloried  in  it.  At  the  same  time  we  must  con 
fess  that  he  would  have  been  a  most  inconvenient 
member  to  take  active  part  in  a  Democratic  conven 
tion  of  the  present  day. 

Finally  he  rose  up  and  stretched  himself  with  a 
mighty  yawn — he  was  over  six  feet  and  his  head 


The  Avenger.  337 

reached  nearly  to  the  cabin  roof —laid  his  pipe  care 
fully  away  on  the  shelf,  and  was  about  to  turn  his 
attention  to  the  broken  trap,  when,  in  his  search  for 
some  paper  to  clean  it  with,  he  came  across  a  part 
of  a  Democratic  political  speech.  To  the  majority 
of  newspaper  readers  it  would  have  been  like  a  piece 
of  very  stale  apple  pie,  but  Mr.  Dukes  proceeded  at 
once  to  devour  it  with  a  keen  appreciation  of  what 
seemed  to  him  the  most  telling  points.  He  was  a 
prohibitionist,  but  like  thousands  of  Southern  Dem 
ocrats  who  lean  that  way,  he  could  not  see  how  in 
extricably  his  beloved  party  had  mortgaged  itself  to 
the  rum  power;  and  if  am'bod}'  wonders  at  such  be 
nighted  ignorance  on  the  part  of  this  simple  Tennes- 
seean,  the  blindness  of  the  average  Republican  will 
present  him  with  as  great  a  marvel.  He  was  also, 
as  we  have  seen,  an  Anti-mason  of  the  intensest 
type,  but  he  was  entirely  ignorant — an  ignorance 
shared  however  by  the  mass  of  historical  students — 
of  that  bit  of  American  political  history  in  which 
the  lodge  played  so  important  a  part  when  it  made 
Andrew  Jackson  President,  and  thus  prevented  its 
inveterate  foe,  John  Quincy  Adams,  from  filling  the 
Presidential  chair  for  a  second  term. 

He  had  finished  it,  and  was  about  to  appropriate 
the  paper  to  its  intended  use  when  his  eye  rested  on 
a  local  paragraph  in  which  occurred  a  name  that 
had  not  crossed  his  mind  for  ten  years  save  linked 
with  a  curse.  His  face  changed  terribly  when  he 
saw  it  The  lazy,  shiftless,  good-natured  trapper 
had  the  failings  as  well  as  the  virtues  of  the  moun- 


338  Between  Two  Opinions. 

tain  race  from  which  he  sprung — grateful  for  the 
smallest  benefit,  quick  to  avenge  the  smallest  affront, 
a  trusty  friend  and  an  implacable  foe. 

It  was  the  name  of  Dacey — James  Dacey;  a  man 
born  of  a  good  family,  but  with  a  decided  bent  for 
the  crooked  and  devious  ways  of  the  transgressor, 
and  with  a  faculty  for  keeping  clear  of  the  law  that 
much  mystified  many  of  his  victims.  He  had  been 
married  twice.  The  first  time  he  had  obtained  an 
unjust  divorce  through  the  help  of  an  unprincipled 
attorney  who  was  like  himself  a  high  Mason.  The 
second  time  he  had  beguiled  a  simple-hearted,  pretty 
maiden  into  marrying  him;  then,  after  living  with 
her  for  a  while,  denied  the  legality  of  the  marriage, 
and  left  her,  broken-hearted,  in  an  equivocal  posi 
tion  among  strangers  to  support  her  two  children  as 
best  she  could.  Mr.  Dacey 's  regular  profession  it 
would  have  been  hard  to  define.  He  never  stayed 
very  long  in  one  place,  and  with  every  change  of 
residence  he  turned  his  hand  to  something  new  in 
the  line  of  rascality.  At  the  time  Jesse  Dukes  so 
unfortunately  made  his  acquaintance  he  called  him 
self  a  broker  in  real  estate,  though  his  methods  of 
conducting  business  were  somewhat  peculiar.  He 
was  really  the  head  of  a  bogus  land  company  which 
operated  under  fictitious  names,  issuing  worthless 
title  deeds  to  confiding  settlers  in  distant  territories, 
but  he  sometimes  did  a  stroke  of  sharp  business 
nearer  home,  as  in  the  case  of  Jesse  Dukes.  The 
simple  mountaineer,  utterly  unused  to  trickery  and 
fraud,  bravely  defended  his  title  to  his  newly  pur- 


The  Avenger.  339 

chased  homestead,  and  when  he  realized  that  the 
suit  had  actually  gone  against  him  he  could  scarcely 
be  restrained  from  springing  on  his  adversary  in 
open  court.  He  swore  vengeance  as  it  was,  and 
Dacey,  whose  forte  was  rather  the  smooth  and  grace 
ful  villain  than  the  bull}',  thought  it  prudent  to  de 
camp,  having  about  come  to  the  end  of  his  little 
game,  rather  than  risk  a  charge  of  buckshot  in  his 
handsome  person.  He  then  became  partner  in  a 
liquor  saloon  for  a  while.  He  operated  a  faro  bank 
for  a  season.  He  dabbled  in  various  lottery  schemes, 
and  indeed  it  would  be  difficult  to  name  anything  in 
the  line  of  swindling  and  roguery  to  which  he  had 
not  at  one  time  or  another  given  his  attention.  He 
was  now  agent  for  some  worthless  agricultural  pat 
ents,  and  in  consequence  a  very  active  grangeman. 
When  the  grange  should  discover,  as  it  must  before 
long,  that  it  had  been  outrageously  duped,  he  could 
rely  on  the  close  connection  of  that  body  with  the 
Masonic  lodge  to  clear  him  from  the  consequences. 

Jesse  Dukes  sat  for  a  long  while  with  his  eyes 
riveted  on  the  paper.  But  this  might  be  another 
James  Dacey.  Anyway  he  would  find  out,  and  if  it 
should  prove  the  one  he  sought,  why — Mr.  Dukes 
had  no  very  clear  idea  of  the  form  his  vengeance 
was  going  to  take,  but  he  meant  before  he  was 
through  with  Mr.  Dacey  to  make  him  repent  his 
action  in  that  particular  lawsuit  which  had  broken 
up  his  happy  home  and  reduced  him  to  poverty. 

At  last  with  a  fierce,  determined  look  he  rose  to 
his  feet,  and  not  even  stopping  to  put  away  his  traps 


340  Between   Two  Opinions. 

strewed  over  the  floor,  he  left  the  cabin  standing 
empty  and  desolate,  and  started  forth  on  his  quest 
for  vengeance. 

Before  we  proceed  to  tell  how  the  quest  came  out, 
we  have  a  word  to  say  regarding  the  startling  in 
crease  in  our  land  of  that  form  of  lawless  violence 
known  as  lynch  law.  In  rude,  semi-civilized  com 
munities  it  may  be  a  deplorable  necessity  to  dis 
pense  summary  justice  in  this  way,  but  when  we  find 
the  papers  filled  with  accounts  of  horrible  lynching 
affairs,  not  perpetrated  where  the  reign  of  law  and 
order  has  not  yet  begun,  but  under  the  very  shadow 
of  our  court  houses,  it  is  evident  that  there  is  some 
thing  wrong  in  the  working  of  our  criminal  laws. 
When  a  people  know  that  swift  and  equal  punish 
ment  will  be  meted  out  to  all  wrong  doers,  they  are 
not  generally  disposed  to  take  the  execution  thereof 
on  themselves.  But  when  the  law  has  respect  of 
persons,  when  it  discriminates  between  the  man  who 
has  robbed  the  State  of  a  fortune  and  the  poor  boy 
who  steals  five  dollars,  because  the  one  is  a  Mason 
and  the  other  is  not,  is  there  room  for  wonder  that 
they  weary  sometimes  of  the  travesties  of  justice  in 
our  court  rooms  and  become  their  own  judges  and 
executioners? 


CHAPTER  XXVHL 

"VENGEANCE    IS   MINE." 

"I  call  this  curious  weather,  Mr.  Deming.  Makes 
me  feel  kinder  as  though  something  was  going  to 
happen." 

"Can't  expect  comfortable  weather  in  dog  days, 
Uncle  Zeb,"  responded  Mr.  Deming,  as  he  took  a 
look  around  him  at  the  horizon,  which  was  curtained 
by  a  thin  veil  of  clouds  through  which  the  sun  shone 
with  a  strange,  brassy  radiance,  while  the  very 
leaves  on  the  trees  seemed  to  fairly  pant  in  the  life 
less  air. 

"That's  a  fact,"  returned  Uncle  Zeb,  as  he  seated 
himself  in  an  easy  attitude  for  conversation.  "But 
human  nater  is  dreadful  onreasonable.  When  it's 
cold  we  want  it  hot,  and  when  it's  hot  we  want  it 
cold.  Makes  me  think  a  little  of  the  weather  we 
had  that  year  Harrison  was  elected.  I  remember  all 
about  them  'Tippecanoe  and  Tyler  too'  times.  May 
be  you  don't  quite  so  well.  You  was  a  trifle 
younger." 

"Parties  have  changed  a  good  deal  since  then," 
sententiously  remarked  Mr.  Deming,  and  Uncle  Zeb 
went  on. 

"Well,  politics  is  a  good  deal  like  a  chessboard. 
It's  a  move  here  and  a  move  there,  and  to  them  that 


342  Between   Two   Opinions. 

don't  understand  the  ins  and  outs,  why,  it's  all  gam 
mon.  That's  the  way  I  look  at  all  this  nominating, 
and  canvassing,  and  stump-speaking.  But  the  Pro 
hibitionists  now — they  seem  to  be  going  on  a  differ 
ent  tack.  I  see  there  was  a  "W.  C.  T.  U.  woman  ad 
vertised  to  speak  not  a  great  ways  from  here,  and  I 
thought  I'd  chirk  up  and  go  and  hear  her.  And  if 
she  wan't  a  master  head  for  facts  and  figgers !  Some 
of  the  things  she  told  fairly  made  me  cry  like  a 
baby.  I've  been  all  kinder  stirred  up  ever  sence  a 
thinkin'  on  'em  over.  It  didn't  sound  a  bit  as 
though  she  was  making  a  speech;  she  seemed  to  talk 
right  from  her  heart  as  the  Lord  give  her  the  words. 
I  tell  you,  Mr.  Deming,  I've  about  made  up  my  mind 
if  I  live  till  next  fall  to  vote  the  Prohibition  ticket 
and  let  both  the  old  parties  go — to  grass." 

Now  Mr.  Deming,  it  must  be  said,  was  a  Republi 
can,  who  had  always  prided  himself  on  being  sound 
in  regard  to  all  the  great  moral  questions  of  the  day, 
but  he  had  never  yet  reached  the  point  of  leaving 
his  party;  and  now  to  hear  such  an  energetic  expres 
sion  from  Uncle  Zeb,  a  Democrat  of  that  easy-going 
type  who  take  up  naturally  with  the  party  whose 
platform  presents  the  fewest  troublesome  issues, 
touched  his  conscience  as  with  a  vague  reminder  of 
the  words  of  inspiration,  "The  first  shall  be  last  and 
the  last  first." 

"Well,  I  am  waiting  to  see  who  the  Democrats 
will  put  up,"  he  answered  cautiously.  "A  good  deal 
depends  on  that." 

"I  understand" — and  Uncle  Zeb  chuckled,  for  he 


"Vengeance  is  Mine."  343 

could  not  help  uttering  a  joke  even  when  it  bore 
rather  hard  on  himself — "you  know  we  Democrats 
are  the  publicans  and  sinners.  We  can  turn  about 
and  enter  the  kingdom  while  you  Republican  Phari 
sees  are  balancing  on  the  fence.  There's  a  kind  of 
Scriptural  illustration  for  ye,  as  you  may  say." 

It  was  one,  however,  which  Mr.  Deming  did  not 
enjoy,  for  he  felt  that  in  this  matter  as  in  that  of 
the  grange,  Uncle  Zeb  had  the  advantage.  The  lat 
ter  had  prudently  abstained  from  making  his  usual 
facetious  allusions  to  "the  machine,"  since  the  un 
fortunate  Masonic  experiment  recorded  in  a  prior 
chapter,  and  Mr.  Deming  was  so  relieved  by  the 
truce  that  he  could  have  thanked  the  O'Sullivan  goat 
for  its  unwitting  share  in  bringing  it  about,  many 
times  as  he  had  voted  the  animal  a  nuisance  and  re 
solved  to  complain  to  the  owner  for  not  keeping  it 
more  strictly  confined. 

It  is  one  of  the  laws  of  the  grange  that  no  politi 
cal  questions  shall  be  discussed  in  its  meetings,  yet 
"the  machine"  is  one  eminently  adapted  to  gain 
office  for  the  leaders;  for  who  would  suspect  a  society 
of  simple  farmers  of  engaging  in  political  schemes 
and  plottings?  least  of  all  those  same  innocent- 
minded  farmers  themselves?  Fairfield  Grange, 
though  ostensibly  devoted  to  advancing  the  peaceful 
art  of  agriculture,  was  really  a  hot-bed  of  partisan 
ship,  and  Mr.  Israel  Deming  had  felt  very  percepti 
bly  the  pulling  of  certain  wires;  but  whose  hands 
manipulated  them  or  the  secret  of  their  workings 
were  hidden  mysteries.  Of  the  men  for  whom  thero 


344  Between   Two   Opinions. 

was  this  invisible  but  strong  pressure  brought  upon 
him  to  vote  at  the  coming  election,  he  knew  literally 
nothing  except  that  they  were  grangemen,  who,  he 
was  assured,  would  use  their  official  position  to  ad 
vance  the  farming  interests.  He  was  never  told, 
however,  that  every  one  of  these  same  seekers  for 
political  power  were  high  degree  Masons,  who  were 
using  the  simple  grangers  as  the  proverbial  monkey 
used  the  too  confiding  grimalkin. 

Dora  was  sitting  in  the  open  window,  dressed  in 
her  light  afternoon  muslin — a  most  agreeable  and 
pleasing  object.  She  heard  the  conversation,  but 
not  to  take  any  particular  interest  therein.  Her 
father  and  Uncle  Zeb  were  always  talking  politics 
nowadays,  and  lugging  in  that  wearisome  subject  of 
prohibition.  Of  course  she  wanted  rum-selling  done 
away  with,  but  what  was  the  use  of  making  such  a 
fuss  about  it?  And  as  to  these  W.  C.  T.  U.  women 
she  did  not  understand  them  in  the  least.  She  was 
sure  she  could  never  spend  her  life  as  they  did, 
thinking  and  speaking  and  writing  of  nothing  but 
temperance  all  the  time.  And  then  to  go  round 
gathering  up  all  these  terrible  facts  which  made  her 
feel  sick  even  to  read  or  hear  about!  It  was  per 
fectly  incomprehensible.  From  this  train  of  thought 
Dora's  musings  branched  off  in  another  direction. 
She  began  to  think  how  hot  it  was,  and  recall  to  her 
mind  some  of  the  latest  compliments  Mr.  Dacey  had 
paid  her,  and  wonder  whether  he  really  meant  them. 
To  the  language  of  polite  gallantry  Dora  was  a 
stranger,  and  she  never  thought  that  a  single 


"Vengeance  is  Mine."  345 

glance  of  honest  admiration  from  one  of  her  young 
fanner  suitors,  even  when  it  remained  unsaid  or  was 
expressed  in  the  most  awkward  and  bungling  fash 
ion,  had  in  it  a  thousand  times  more  of  real  knightly 
chivalry. 

Mr.  Dacey  on  his  part  took  every  opportunity  to 
foster  her  foolish  fancy,  for  he  was  by  no  means 
oblivious  of  the  fact  that  Mr.  Deming  was  the  rich 
est  farmer  in  Fairfield,  and  Dora  an  only  child.  But 
he  had  no  idea  of  appearing  as  an  open  and  honest 
wooer  where  he  was  sure  of  meeting  opposition — 
especially  from  Mrs.  Deming.  There  had  existed  a 
settled  antagonism  between  them  from  the  first. 
She  was  suspicious  that  all  was  not  right  in  regard 
to  the  grange  business,  and  feared  that  he  was  lead 
ing  her  eas3^-minded  husband  into  trouble  with  those 
agricultural  patents.  The  .very  suspicion  that  he 
had  designs  on  Dora  would  have  transformed  her 
negative  dislike  to  him  into  positive  fury.  But  he 
was  sure  he  could  in  time  prevail  on  the  latter  to 
consent  to  a  secret  or  runaway  marriage,  and  in  fact 
he  had  already  laid  his  plans  to  this  end  b}^  paying 
her  many  clandestine  attentions  which,  if  she  had 
not  been  thoroughly  bewitched  by  his  flatteries, 
would  have  put  her  on  her  guard.  For  her's  was  a 
frank  and  open  nature.  The  secrecy  of  the  grange 
in  itself  had  no  charms  for  her.  We  do-  not  bait  a 
trap  with  poison,  but  with  a  harmless  bit  of  cheese. 
Dora's  girlish  love  of  pleasure  and  admiration  pro 
vided  all  the  attraction  needed. 

It  grew  more  strangely  still  and  dark  and  oppres- 


346  Between  Two   Opinion*. 

si  ye.  What  little  oxygen  there  was  in  the  air 
seemed  to  die  out  of  it.  Even  her  father  and  Uncle 
Zeb  grew  silent  as  if  it  was  too  hot  to  talk,  Mrs. 
Deming,  however,  had  not  succumbed  to  the  weather. 
She  did  not  believe  in  succumbing  to  anything,  and 
now  she  said  decidedly  to  Dora: 

"Come,  child,  don't  be  so  idle.  If  you  are  at 
work  you  won't  mind  the  heat  half  so  much." 

Dora  made  a  pretense  of  going  on  with  her  sew 
ing,  but  the  gate  clicked  just  then  and  set  her  fool 
ish  little  heart  to  beating  with  the  thought  that  it 
might  be  Mr.  Dacej^,  who  had  mentioned  to  her  the 
day  before,  in  one  of  those  clandestine  walks  which 
he  always  contrived  to  plan  in  such  a  way  that  Dora 
never  really  suspected  that  he  meant  they  should  be 
clandestine,  his  intention  of  visiting  her  father  the 
next  day  on  business.  It  did  not  prove  to  be  him, 
however,  but  the  strangest,  roughest  looking  figure 
Dora  had  ever  seen.  He  must  be  a  tramp  of  the 
most  desperate  description,  she  thought.  How  very 
fortunate  that  her  father  was  at  home!  Of  Uncle 
Zeb's  valor  in  case  of  any  sudden  call  upon  it  she 
had  a  pardonably  low  opinion. 

We,  however,  have  no  trouble  in  recognizing  our 
old  friend,  Jesse  Dukes.  Weariness  and  hunger  and 
thirst  he  had  hardly  felt  in  the  fierce  heat  of  re 
vengeful  desire  that  consumed  his  soul.  He  asked 
for  a  drink  and  sat  down  on  the  doorstep,  unloosing 
his  knapsack  as  he  did  so  and  setting  his  rifle  care 
fully  up  against  the  outside  wall. 

Dora  brought  him  water  in  a  tin  dipper.     Jesse 


"Vengeance  is  Mine."  347 

Dukes  looked  up  at  her  with  something  of  the  pleas 
ure  that  one  looks  at  a  bright-hued  flower  or  bird. 

"Thank  ye,  daughter,"  he  said,  as  he  gave  the  dip 
per  back.  But  the  hard,  fierce,  vindictive  face  only 
softened  for  an  instant. 

"I've  got  an  account  to  settle  with  a  man,"  he  an 
swered  reticently,  to  Uncle  'Zeb's  ready  question 
ings,  "and  I've  tramped  a  smart  forty  miles  on  pur 
pose  to  settle  it.  So  I'm  feelin'  a  bit  beat  out." 

There  came  a  low  rumble  of  distant  thunder. 

"I  reckon  there's  goin'  to  be  a  shower,"  said 
Uncle  Zeb  in  his  slow  way. 

The  gate  clicked  again.  Jesse  Dukes  started  up. 
He  felt  as  by  intuition  the  approach  of  his  victim, 
yet  Dace}'  was  within  a  }'ard  of  him  and  his  foot 
almost  on  the  door-stone  before  he  recognized  the 
grim  face  of  the  trapper.  Then  he  stopped,  trem 
bling.  He  had  reason  to  tremble,  remembering  the 
look  of  wild-beast  fury  from  which  he  had  cowered 
in  such  miserable  terror,  when,  helpless  in  the  net 
of  Masonic  injustice,  Jesse  Dukes  had  turned  upon 
him  in  the  court-room  ten  years  before.  Now  to  be 
so  suddenly  confronted  with  it  was  almost  like  an 
apparition  from  the  dead. 

He  attempted  at  first  to  ignore  his  enemy;  then 
with  a  poor  feigning  of  sudden  recollection  he  held 
out  his  hand  affably  and  tried  to  assume  an  air  of 
old  acquaintanceship. 

Jesse  Dukes  took  no  notice  of  the  motion  but 
stood  directly  in  his  path,  a  grim  and  frowning  bar 
rier  to  his  further  progress. 


348  Between  Two  Opinions. 

"You  ain't  fit  to  step  your  foot  over  a  decent 
man's  threshold,"  he  said  in  a  low,  fierce  voice; 
"and  I'll  stop  your  doing  it  if  I  kin.  Didn't  you 
cheat  me  out  of  every  cent  I  had  in  the  world,  all 
because  you  was  a  Mason  and  could  count  on  a  Ma 
sonic  judge  and  jury  to  help?  And  when  my  wife 
lay  a  dyin',  and  I  had  only  a  cabin  to  shelter  her, 
and  no  medicine,  nor  food  of  the  right  kind  for  her. 
she'd  want  me  to  read  to  her  out  of  the  Bible,  but 
when  I  did  my  ej'es  would  always  be  a  lightin'  on 
sich  ar  texts  as  these:  'He  turneth  the  way  of  the 
wicked  upside  down.'  'On  the  wicked  he  shall  reign 
snares.  Fire  and  brimstone  and  an  horrible  tem 
pest  shall  be  the  portion  of  their  cup.'  When  the 
Lord  comes  to  reckon  with  ye,  ye  miserable  varmint, 
passing  yourself  off  for  an  unmarried  man  when 
you've  got  a  wife  and  two  children — off,  nobody 
knows  where — ye'll  find  there's  a  court  up  above 
where  they  don't  make  much  account  of  Masonic 
signs  and  grips." 

Dora  gave  a  low,  quick  cry,  that  nobody  heard  in 
the  excitement  of  the  moment.  It  was  as  if  wrapped 
in  a  somnambulist's  dream  she  had  been  standing 
on  the  sheer  edge  of  a  dreadful  precipice,  and  Jesse 
Duke's  terrible  accusations  against  the  man  she  was 
foolish  enough  to  think  she  loved  was  the  voice  in 
her  ears  that  had  wakened  and  saved  her. 

Dacey  would  have  run  away,  but  aside  from  the 
lack  of  dignity  in  such  a  proceeding  it  would  have 
been  about  as  safe  to  attempt  flight  with  the  fangs 
of  a  bull-dog  already  fastened  in  his  coat.  As  a  last 


"Vengeance  is  Mine."  349 

resort  he  appealed  to  the  group  in  the  doorway. 

"This  fellow,  you  must  see,  is  insane,  Mr.  Dem- 
ing.  How  can  you  allow  him  to  insult  and  abuse 
me  with  such  a  pack  of  lies.  Uncle  Zeb,  as  a  bro 
ther  Mason" — 

Here  Uncle  Zeb  rose  up  in  mighty  wrath. 

"You  needn't  'brother'  me.  I  was  green  enough 
once  to  jine  the  lodge,  and  I've  made  a  kind  of  a 
joke  of  it  when  it  was  a  sin  I'd  oughter  have  repent 
ed  of.  And  if  a  thousandth  part  of  what  I've  he'erd 
jest  now  is  true,  I'd  advise  you  to  be  repenting,  and 
in  a  mighty  hurry." 

"This  is  prolonging  a  most  unprofitable  inter 
view,"  said  Dacey,  taking  refuge  in  the  coolest  ef 
frontery  he  could  muster  to  hide  his  inward  scare. 
"Here  is  a  man  ready  to  take  my  life,  and  not  one 
of  you  stirs  a  finger." 

But  Mr.  Deming  had  enough  of  the  Anglo-Saxon 
sense  of  justice  not  to  interfere  till  really  obliged  to 
do  so.  He  knew  very  well  that  but  for  these  revela 
tions  now  so  strangely  made  by  this  unknown  man 
he  might  in  the  next  hour  have  been  in  Dacey's 
power — how  deeply  and  inextricably  he  trembled  to 
think.  Such  a  villain  ought  to  be  in  state's  prison, 
and  though  a  good  fright  would  go  but  a  small  way 
towards  paying  him  his  deserts,  it  was  better  than 
nothing. 

So  pre-occupied  were  the  group  that  no  one  saw 
the  black  curiously-shaped  cloud  with  lurid  greenish 
edges  so  swiftly  approaching  from  the  southwest, 
bearing  desolation  and  death  in  its  track.  Yet  the 


350  Between   Two  Opinions. 

very  birds  had  felt  the  awful  shadow  of  its  coming 
and  flown  away  in  terror. 

"Ye  sneakin'  varmint!" — and  with  the  old  pan 
ther  fury  blazing  in  his  eyes  Jesse  Dukes  would 
have  sprung  on  his  adversary,  but  a  Hand  parted 
them. 

Those  in  the  house  heard  a  dull,  distant  roar,  but 
there  was  no  time  for  flight  before,  cutting  for  itself 
a  path  even  and  clean  as  if  done  by  a  mower's 
scythe,  the  tornado  swept  past,  wrecking  farm  and 
outbuildings,  felling  trees,  and  filling  the  air  with 
the  flying  dust  and  debris. 

The  storm  demon  did  his  work  of  destruction  in 
that  one  brief,  dreadful  instant.  Dora  hud  shut  her 
eyes  in  shuddering  terror  when  the  blow  came  on. 
She  opened  them  to  find  herself,  rather  to  her  own 
surprise,  still  a  denizen  of  this  world.  Uncle  Zeb 
was  groaning  and  praying  like  an  old-fashioned 
Methodist.  Not  one  of  the  group  had  been  injured 
by  even  a  scratch. 

But  assailer  and  assailed! — where  were  they? 

Jesse  Dukes  had  really  no  intention  of  taking 
Dacey's  life.  He  meant  to  chastise  him  soundly 
and  show  him  up  for  the  unprincipled  villain  that 
he  was,  The  justice  Masonic  courts  refused  to  give 
him  he  meant  to  administer  for  himself  accord 
ing  to  the  rude  ideas  of  justice  prevailing  among  his 
primitive  mountain  race.  But  Dacey's  insulting 
words  had  heated  the  furnace  of  the  trapper's  wrath 
seven  times  hotter.  There  was  murder  in  his  soul, 
murder  in  the  fierce  grip  with  which  be  held  his 


"Vengeance  is  Mine.1'  351 

enemy  till  wrenched  apart  by  that  terrible  Power. 
********** 

He  knew  nothing  more  till  one  flash  of  vivid  light 
ning  rent  the  gloom,  followed  instantly  by  the  re 
verberating  crash  of  the  swiftly  descending  thunder 
bolt  The  rain  descended  in  sheets,  in  cataracts. 
Jesse  Dukes  raised  himself  from  the  sodden  earth 
and  suddenly  realized  that  he  was  alone — that  the 
form  stretched  lifeless  on  tho  ground  a  dozen  yards 
away  was  that  of  James  Dacey.  God  had  avenged 
him  of  his, adversary,  and  saved  him  from  blood- 
guiltiness. 

He  staggered  to  his  feet,  gave  one  dazed  glance 
around  and  covered  his  face  with  his  hands,  moan 
ing,  "0  Lord,  I'm  a  poor  sinner!" 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

GOING   DOWN   INTO   EGYPT. 

The  political  contest  had  assumed  new  features, 
and  as  usual  the  saloon  and  the  lodge  were  both  ac 
tive.  By  this  means  some  curious  complications 
were  preparing  which  would  be  a  surpwse  to  many 
who  never  thought  while  so  confidently  predicting 
results  to  make  allowance  for  these  two  important 
factors — particularly  the  latter.  "The  way  of  a  ser 
pent  upon  a  rock"  is  about  as  easy  to  trace  as  the 
way  of  the  lodge  in  politics,  but  we  will  essay  the 
task,  first  giving  the  reader  a  map  of  the  political 
situation  that  he  may  better  understand  what  fol 
lows. 

The  Republicans  nominated  as  their  choice  for 
Governor  Judge  Dyer,  a  Christian  man  of  strong 
temperance  principles — in  all  respects  an  irreproach 
able  candidate.  The  determined  stand  made  by  the 
Prohibitionists  at  the  previous  election  had  forced 
this  concession  from  the  unwilling  party  leaders. 
To  nominate  again  a  demagogue  like  Gen.  Putney, 
even  at  the  bidding  of  the  Grand  Army,  would  be 
too  much  of  a  risk.  On  the  other  hand  the  Demo 
crats  nominated  as  before  an  ex-confederate  who 
stood  high  in  favor  with  the  saloonists.  Had  the 
Republican  choice  been  less  worthy  the  Prohibition 


Going  Down  into  Egypt.  353 

ranks  would  have  stood  firm,  but  when  to  its  nominee's 
unquestioned  character  for  integrity  and  patriotism 
were  added  vague  promises  of  submitting  a  prohib 
itory  amendment  to  the  people,  even  the  staunchest 
third  party  men  wavered.  Stephen  Rowland  him 
self,  after  a  little  inward  struggle,  left  the  prohibi 
tion  Moses  and  joined  the  rest  who  flocked  to  Judge 
Dyer's  standard  in  the  sanguine  belief  that  they  al 
ready  saw  the  dawn  of  a  new  day. 

But  Martin  Tre worthy  was  not  so  hopefully  in 
clined,  though  if  he  could  have  conscientiously  cast 
his  vote  once  more  with  the  party  of  his  first  affec 
tions,  so  inseparably  associated  with  the  memory  of 
his  old  battles  for  human  freedom  and  the  name  of 
his  mourned  and  martyred  chief,  it  would  have  re 
joiced  him  from  his  heart 

"Mr.  Treworthy,  what  do  you  think  of  voting  for 
Judge  Dyer,"  asked  Nelson,  who  was  now  in  his  new 
position  of  foreman  at  the  works. 

He  was  tolerably  sure  of  keeping  it,  and  could 
speak  lightly  of  his  own  losses  to  Stephen  Rowland 
as  compared  with  others  whose  all  had  been  swal 
lowed  up  in  the  bank's  failure.  At  the  same  time 
to  have  to  begin  over  again  the  task  so  nearly  ac 
complished  of  earning  a  home  for  himself  and  Mar 
tha  was  not  a  very  inspiriting  outlook.  Besides 
this  there  were  disagreeable  things  connected  with 
his  new  position,  for  while  the  majority  of  the  men 
liked  him,  he  knew  there  existed  an  unfriendly  ele 
ment  which  made  itself  felt  in  various  ways,  and 
which  would  not  only  have  gladly  ousted  him  from 


354  Between   Two   Opinions. 

the  situation,  but  would  doubtless  have  succeeded 
in  doing  so  with  an  employer  of  less  stubborn  make 
or  less  firmly  his  friend  than  Matthew  Densler,  who 
turned  a  deaf  ear  to  all  complaints,  grimly  assuring 
the  fault  finders  that  he  was  boss  over  his  own  con 
cerns,  and  if  they  didn't  like  the  new  foreman  they 
might  leave  and  welcome — the  sooner  the  better. 

Martin  leaned  forward  in  his  leathern  arm-chair, 
and  was  silent  a  moment  before  replying. 

"Judge  Dyer  is  a  fine  sort  of  a  man.  He's  clear 
of  the  lodge;  I've  taken  the  pains  to  find  out  that. 
And  once,  at  least,  he's  wrote  or  said  something 
against  it.  And  he's  got  a  good  clean  temperance 
record,  but  then  I  don't  know  — " 

"Whether  it  is  best  to  vote  for  him?"  inquired 
Nelson,  as  Martin  seemed  to  go  off  in  a  deep  reverie, 
leaving  the  unfinished  sentence  suspended  on  his 
lips.  "I  don't  see  as.  there  is  any  other  alternative. 
I  have  said  I  would  never  go  again  with  the  Repub 
lican  party,  but  I  think  I  shall  vote  for  Judge 
Dyer." 

"  'Woe  unto  them  that  go  down  to  Egypt  for  help !' " 
repeated  Martin  slowly  and  solemnly  to  this  declar 
ation;  "  'to  strengthen  themselves  in  the  strength  of 
Pharaoh  and  to 'trust  in  the  shadow  of  Egypt. 
Therefore,  shall  the  strength  of  Pharaoh  be  your 
shame  and  the  trust  in  the  shadow  of  Egypt  your 
confusion.'" 

But  Nelson  could  not  see  that  this  Old  Testament 
prophecy  had  the  slightest  bearing  on  the  subject, 
and  answered  wonderingly: 


Going  Down  into  Egypt.  355 

"What  do  you  mean,  Mr.  Tre worthy?' 

"Didn't  the  Jews  go  for  help  to  a  nation  eaten  up 
by  false  worships?  And  ain't  that  just  what  the 
prohibition  Israel  is  doing  to-da}*? — seeking  help 
from  a  party  given  over  to  the  heathenism  of  the 
Masonic  lodge?" 

"Not  more  than  the  Democratic  party,  surely." 

"That  ain't  the  question.  Masonry  controls  'em 
both.  Do  you  think  I  want  the  Democrats  to  win? 
Don't  I  remember  their  rule  thirty  years  ago  under 
Pierce  and  Buchanan,  when  I  was  whipped  and  put 
in  prison  and  chased  by  bloodhounds?  But  that  is 
all  over  and  done  with.  I  don't  owe  the  Democratic 
party  anything  now,  nor  they  me." 

"Then  why  not  vote  for  Judge  Dyer?  such  an  ex 
ceptionable  candidate — I  really  can't  see." 

"No,  you  can't  see,"  retorted  Martin,  with  quiet 
sarcasm;  "but  may  the  Lord  open  your  blind  eyes. 
Here  you  be,  you  and  other  prohibitionists,  and  you 
can't  see  that  a  vote  for  either  of  the  old  parties  is 
a  vote  for  the  lodge,  and  a  vote  for  the  lodge  is  a 
vote  for  the  saloon." 

Martin  Treworthy  shut  his  lips  and  said  no  more. 

But  it  was  a  very  cheerful  going  down  into  Egypt. 
The  Republicans  were  confident  of  victory  now  they 
had  captured  the  prohibition  vote;  the  Prohibition 
ists  equally  so  now  that  the  Republicans  had  seem 
ingly  acceded  to  their  demands.  And  though  there 
were  some  like  Martin  Treworthy  to  feel  suspicious 
of  this  era  of  peace  and  good  will,  they  were  in  too 
small  a  minority  for  their  votes  to  be  missed. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

LODGE    AND    SALOON. 

"The  politicians  of  late  years  have  been  playing  a 
game  of  chess  intent  wholly  upon  the  board,  but 
never  giving  a  thought  to  the  table  under  the  board. 
But  the  table  was  alive,  the  back  of  a  people  which 
began  to  stir,  and  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  chess 
board  and  men  went  to  the  devil." 

This  vigorous  paragraph  from  St.  Beuve  on  the 
French  Provisional  government  of  1848  is  quoted 
partly  because  it  contains  a  warning  which  Ameri 
can  politicians  would  do  well  to  heed,  and  partly  be 
cause  the  last  clause  describes  very  exactly  the  feel 
ings  of  many  good  people  when  Judge  Ityer  was  ig- 
nominiously  defeated  and  his  Democratic  rival 
elected  to  the  gubernatorial  chair. 

The  old  nursery  rhyme  of  Cock  Robin  is  founded 
on  a  deep-seated  principle  of  human  nature.  If  even 
a  pan  of  milk  is  overturned  it  is  always  consoling  to 
know  exactly  who  or  what  did  the  mischief.  In 
obedience  to  this  philosophic  instinct  of  humanity 
we  will  now  resolve  ourselves  into  a  coroner's  jury 
and  inquire  into  the  cause  of  Judge  Dyer's  untimely 
political  death. 

Masonry  never  forgets  or  forgives.     On  one  sin- 


Lodge  and  Saloon.  357 

gle  occasion,  years  before,  he  had  written  a  letter 
condemning  the  lodge.  Lodge  leaders  remembered 
it,  and  silently  and  secretly  the}'  combined  together 
to  prevent  his  election.  How  did  they  do  it?  The 
answer  is  easy.  They  united  with  the  liquor  men, 
and  on  some  slight  pretext  "bolted"  to  the  Demo 
cratic  side  in  just  sufficient  numbers  to  turn  the 
scale.  But  even  Judge  Dyer  never  suspected  the 
hidden  hand  of  Masonry.  His  defeat  was  ascribed 
to  liquor  bribery,  to  the  defection  in  the  German 
vote,  to  any  and  ever}'  cause  but  the  true  one. 

The  lodge  leaders  took  care  that  the  blame  should 
be  thrown  on  the  shoulders  of  the  prohibitionists, 
and  their  ideas  were  reflected  in  leading  Republican 
papers  by  such  paragraphs  as  the  following:  "The 
utter  uselessness  of  making  concessions  to  prohibi 
tion  fanaticism  has  been  proved  once  more.  As 
usual  it  has  been  a  disturbing  and  disintegrating 
factor  which  has  not  strengthened  the  party  but  only 
brought  upon  it  defeat  and  loss.  It  is  too  costly  a 
folly  to  be  again  repeated." 

The  liquor  men  were  of  course  jubilant,  and  with 
astonishing  unanimity  the  very  saloonists  who  were 
such  strong  Republicans  at  the  previous  election, 
now  that  victory  had  perched  on  the  Democratic 
banners,  made  haste  to  doff  their  new  political  livery 
and  veer  round  to  the  winning  side:  while  behind 
them  stood  the  lodge  Judas  smiling  complacently  at 
the  clever  way  in  which  it  had  tricked  the  simple 
temperance  folks,  betraying  them  wholesale  to  their 
ancient  enemy. 


358  Bttween   Two   Opinions. 

But  out  of  the  dead  lion  came  forth  honey.  The 
W.  C.  T.  U.  had  no  idea  of  giving  up  the  battle  for 
a  change  of  parties.  The  prohibitionists,  sadder 
and  wiser,  fell  into  line  and  the  work  went  on  to  the 
mingled  anger  and  consternation  of  the  saloon  men 
who  had  reckoned  securely  on  having  things  their 
own  way.  And  now  to  have  the  cup  of  triumph 
dashed  from  their  lips,  as  seemed  eminently  prob 
able  if  the  bill  for  submitting  a  prohibitory  amend 
ment  to  the  people  could  be  made  to  pass  the  Senate 
by  a  non-partisan  vote  the  following  winter,  was  cer 
tainly  enough  to  warrant  them  in  declaring,  with 
many  unnecessary  expletives,  that  "these  W.  C.  T. 
U.  women  never  knew  when  they  were  beat." 

Martin  Treworthy  heard  the  result  of  the  election 
in  grim  silence,  and  did  not  even  say  to  Nelson,  "I 
told  you  so." 

Stephen  Rowland,  on  his  part,  was  astonished. 
He  had  been  very  sanguine  regarding  Judge  Dyer's 
election,  but  he  felt  that  the  two  old  parties  were 
coming  closer  and  closer  together  every  year.  To 
be  sure,  the  Republicans  retained  something  of  their 
former  moral  superiority — the  momentum  generated 
by  the  sacrifices  and  sufferings  of  their  early  leaders. 
Corrupt  and  self-seeking  as  was  the  average  politi 
cian  of  that  party,  now  and  then  they  put  up  a  pure 
candidate,  nor  had  the  rank  and  file  quite  lost  the 
memory  of  their  first  baptism  in  blood  and  tears  as 
the  party  of  liberty  and  moral  progress. 

Altogether  it  was  a  far  more  promising  instru 
ment  for  the  lodge  to  make  use  of  for  the  betrayal 


Lodge  and  Saloon.  359 

of  the  temperance  cause  than  its  Democratic  rival, 
of  whose  reform  promises,  though  it  should  charm 
never  so  wisel}',  all  true  reformers  would  ever  re 
main  reasonably  shy. 

Stephen  Rowland,  about  a  week  before  the  elec 
tion,  was  much  surprised  to  hear  the  Good  Templar 
acquaintance  previously  mentioned  allude  in  a  doubt 
ful  way  to  the  result  of  the  contest,  and  remark  that 
"he  was  sorry  the  Republicans  had  not  put  up  a 
stronger  ticket." 

"It  is  a  thousand  times  stronger  in  all  that  consti 
tutes  real  strength  than  the  ticket  put  up  last  year," 
responded  Stephen,  warmly.  "Judge  Dyer  has  got 
no  tricks  of  the  demagogue  about  him.  He  is  a 
plain,  honest  man,  and  as  such  he  ought  to  command 
the  people's  vote." 

"Well,  Col.  Morrison  said  to  me  only  yesterday — 
you  know  he  is  Republican  and  enough  in  politics 
to  get  an  inside  view  of  the  way  things  are  going — 
that  Judge  Dyer  would  never  be  elected.  And  he 
went  on  to  tell  how  it  was  perilling  the  German 
vote;  'and  besides,'  says  he,  'Dyer  isn't  personally  a 
popular  man.'" 

Col.  Morrison  was  one  of  the  "bolters,"  willing  to 
betray  his  party  for  the  sake  of  the  lodge,  and  the 
above  is  a  very  good  specimen  of  the  way  in  which 
he  and  other  Masonic  politicians  worked  against 
Judge  Dyer — less  by  downright  falsehoods  than  by 
vague  insinuations  which  carried  all  the  sting  of 
positive  charges.  But  it  must  not  be  supposed  that 
Masonry  defeated  him  under  her  own  name.  She 


360  Between   Two  Opinion*. 

hid  behind  the  secret  liquor  leagues,  but  lent  them 
her  halls,  animated  their  counsels,  and  did  for  them 
in  brief  precisely  what  she  formerly  did  for  the 
Southern  Ku-Klux  who  hid  their  disguises  in  Ma 
sonic  lodge-rooms,  and  whose  exploits  in  burning 
school  houses  and  killing  defenseless  negroes  were 
really  nothing  but  Masonic  masquerades. 

It  has  been  computed  that  every  saloon  in  the 
country  must  control  on  an  average  ten  votes,  which 
gives  us  two  million  saloon  voters.  Add  to  this  the 
dark,  silent,  invisible  factor  of  the  secret  lodge,  and 
is  it  any  wonder  that  pure  men  should  be  defeated 
at  the  polls  and  demagogism  thrive  as  in  a  hot-bed? 
Yet  many  good  people  stand  aghast  at  the  idea  of 
joining  religion  and  politics,  as  if  it  might  be  like 
those  chemical  unions  in  which  the  composing  ele 
ments  are  harmless  enough  when  kept  separate,  but 
as  soon  as  they  come  together  develop  explosive 
properties. 

But  is  the  union  of  the  saloon  and  politics,  or 
Masonry  and  politics,  any  less  dangerous?  Can  the 
pulpit  afford  to  keep  silent  regarding  questions  on 
which  all  the  dramshops  and  gambling  hells  and 
secret  lodges  have  their  freely-expressed  opinion? 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

A    LIQUOR   MOB. 

The  Jacksonville  Legion  was  not  a  military  com 
pany,  as  the  reader  may  innocently  imagine,  but  the 
name  under  which  the  liquor  sellers  of  that  city  had 
banded  together  to  prevent  the  passing  of  temper 
ance  laws  and  the  execution  of  those  already  on  the 
statute  book.  It  was  really  a  branch  of  a  secret  sa 
loon  association  that  could  bribe  and  cajole  and 
threaten  and  natter  the  candidates  of  both  parties; 
that  always  had  delegates  at  the  primaries  and  cau 
cuses,  and  plenty  of  funds  with  which  to  corrupt 
public  officials  and  defeat  and  betray  prohibition 
measures.  In  fact  the  Legion  was  a  power  with 
capacities  for  mischief  that  far  transcended  the 
Order  of  the  Red  Mark. 

Stephen  Howland  still  continued  to  worry  the 
liquor  men  and  be  the  recipient  of  curses  that  he 
did  not  hear,  and  which  would  not  have  much 
troubled  him  if  he  had.  But  little  as  he  suspected 
it  his  most  formidable  enemies  were  among  his 
former  Odd-fellow  brethren.  His  defection  was  an 
unpardonable  offense,  an  insult  to  the  order.  And 
considered  in  this  light  it  is  not  strange  that  a  very 
active  desire  to  punish  him  for  it  in  some  way  was 


362  Between    Two   Opinions. 

developed  in  the  breasts  of  many  of  the  members? 
And  what  easier  way  to  do  this  than  through  a  Ma 
sonic  understanding  with  his  saloon  foes? 

The  Jacksonville  Legion  was  freely  sprinkled  with 
Masons  and  Odd-fellows  of  the  Van  Grilder  type  who 
had  never  borne  very  friendly  feelings  to  the  young 
lawyer,  and  now  rather  enjoyed  the  opportunity  of 
hitting  him  in  the  dark.  Stephen  did  not  even  know 
of  the  existence  of  the  Jacksonville  Legion,  but  he 
was  soon  to  learn  by  disagreeable  experience  that 
liquor  malevolence  with  the  spur  of  lodge  malice 
behind  it  is  capable  of  desperate  things. 

Stephen  was  announced  to  speak  one  night  on  the 
pending  Constitutional  Amendment  in  the  First 
Presbyterian  church  in  Jacksonville.  This  church 
was  very  unpopular  with  the  rum  party  for  the  ad 
vanced  ground  which  its  members  took  on  prohibi 
tion,  and  also  as  being  a  gathering  place  for  the 
W.  C.  T.  U.  So  the  trustees,  shortly  after  the  an 
nouncement,  received  an  anonymous  note  from  the 
Jacksonville  Legion  which  read  as  follows: 

SIRS: — This  is  to  inform  you  that  if  you  let.  your 
church  be  used  by  that  lying  blatherskite  of  a  temper 
ance  lawyer,  Stephen  ffowland,  to  spout  his  injurious 
nonsense  and  defame  better  men  than  himself,  we  shall 
find  ways  and  means  to  destroy  the  building. 

BY  ORDER  OF  THE  JACKSONVILLE  LEGION. 

The  trustees  quaked  in  their  shoes,  and  with  some 
reason,  for  it  was  not  long  since  an  attempt  had 
been  made  to  dynamite  a  temperance  hotel.  It 
would  be  just  as  easy  to  dynamite  a  church,  and  it 


A  Liquor  Mob. 

was  finally  decided  to  hold  the  meeting  in  a  public 
hall. 

Stephen  was  not  without  a  goodly  share  of  ph}'- 
ical  courage,  but  when  he  found  on  entering  the 
place  a  crowd  of  irate  whisky  men  filling  up  all  the 
front  seats  next  to  the  platform,  he  felt  glad  that 
the  measure  on  which  he  was  going  to  speak  was 
such  a  one  as  to  make  it  not  incongruous,  but  on  the 
contrary  highly  reasonable  and  proper  that  he 
should  open  his  address  with  prayer. 

The  meeting  was  not  entirely  in  the  hands  of  the 
mob,  and  it  was  a  positive  inspiration  to  catch  sight 
of  Martin  Treworthy  in  the  audience — grim  old  hero 
of  a  hundred  by-gone  battles;  and  to  meet  Nelson 
Newball's  flashing  eyes,  that  Stephen  always  said  to 
himself  had  in  them  the  look  of  a  born  leader-  and 
see  the  calm,  earnest  faces  of  women  that  would  any 
day  dare  a  mob  for  the  protection  of  their  homes. 
But  Stephen  had  put  far  from  him  the  pride  of 
fleshly  confidence  when  he  turned  away  from  "the 
unfruitful  works  of  darkness"  at  the  call  of  the  con 
verted  rumseller,  Peter  Snyder,  and  in  an  hour  like 
this  he  felt  that  the  eternal  Jehovah  himself  must 
be  his  stronghold. 

His  prayer  was  audible  to  but  few,  the  mob  in 
front  keeping  up  a  perfect  Babel  of  groans  and 
hisses. 

St.  George  had  met  the  dragon ! 

If  Stephen's  heart  had  been  a  trifle  lifted  up  with 
his  popularity — and  it  was  natural  that  it  should  be, 
for  he  was  young,  and  flattering  voices  had  not  been 


364  Between  Two  Opinions. 

wanting  to  prophesy  for  him  a  brilliant  political  fu 
ture  when  the  new  party  of  prohibition  should  take 
the  helm — it  was  strangely  humble  when  he  faced 
once  more  the  riotous  crowd.  That  reverent  bowing 
of  the  head,  that  brief,  simple  petition  had  been  al 
together  unpremeditated.  It  was  a  sudden  impulse, 
the  feeling  of  his  own  weakness  coupled  with  such 
an  inrushing  sense  of  the  divine  power  to  uphold 
that  he  did  it  without  a  thought  of  anything  singu 
lar  in  the  action. 

It  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  fronted  such  an 
assemblage.  But  he  had  that  crowning  gift  of  the 
orator,  a  fine,  sonorous  voice,  and  was  not  easily  put 
down. 

At  one  point  in  his  speech  a  few  rotten  eggs  were 
hurled,  bespattering  a  brand  new  suit.  This  was 
disagreeable  as  it  was  a  nice  one,  and  his  funds 
would  not  at  present  warrant  him  in  getting  another. 

"I  am  glad  to  meet  some  of  our  saloon  friends  in 
argument,"  he  responded  as  coolly  as  if  it  had  been 
a  bouquet  of  roses,  at  which  there  was  laughter  and 
applause  mingled  with  other  demonstrations  not  so 
flattering.  "I  object  to  the  style  of  the  argument, 
but  I  will  put  up  with  it  if  it  is  the  best  they  can 
muster.  I  am  not  here  to-night  in  the  interests  of 
any  man  or  any  faction." 

Jeering  cries  interrupted  him,  but  he  went  on  with 
perfect  good  nature. 

"You  distrust  what  I  say — that  I  am  not  a  dema 
gogue  swayed  by  selfish  or  at  best  class  interests. 
A  man  has  no  right  to  pronounce  an  opinion  in  pub- 


A  Liquor  Mob.  365 

lie  on  any  great  question  who  has  not  first  examined 
it  carefully  on  both  sides,  and  considered  it  intelli 
gently  and  its  relations  to  all  classes  in  the  com 
munity.  If  women  should  have  the  right  to  pre 
serve  the  peace  and  virtue  of  their  homes  intact;  if 
business  men  and  artisans  have  the  right  to  pursue 
their  several  callings  unburdened  by  enormous  and 
unnecessary  taxation,  liquor  sellers  have  also  their 
rights  which  1  now  propose  to  spend  a  few  moments 
in  considering." 

There  was  silence  now.  Even  his  foes  were  a  lit 
tle  curious  to  see  how  Stephen  would  handle  this 
novel  subject.  He  went  on. 

"The  saloonist  thinks  that  if  he  pays  fifty  or  a 
hundred  or  five  hundred  dollars  to  the  State  or  the 
city  for  a  license  to  sell  liquor,  he  has  a  right,  clear 
and  incontestable,  to  sell  it.  Certainly  so  far  as  it 
goes  he  has  the  best  of  the  argument.  The  distiller, 
if  he  pays  ninety  per  cent  tax  to  the  government, 
thinks  he  has  a  right  to  carry  on  his  business  with 
out  let  or  hindrance,  and  so  far  as  human  law  can 
give  it  to  him  has  he  not  that  right?  This  is  not  a 
subject  which  we  consider  sufficiently.  Of  those 
who  denounce  the  liquor  seller,  nine  out  of  ten  have 
never  thought  of  putting  themselves  in  his  place,  or 
reflected  that  he  has  rights  like  other  men — the 
right  that  the  government  under  which  he  lives 
should  deal  fairly  by  him,  and,  if  his  be  as  legitimate 
a  business  as  shoeing  horses  or  selling  tea  and  sugar, 
should  impose  no  more  restrictions  on  him  than  it 
does  on  the  blacksmith  or  the  merchant.  Now  there 


366  Between  Two  Opinions. 

is  no  middle  line  between  an  honest  and  a  dishonest 
business,  between  one  that  injures  and  one  that  ben 
efits  society;  and  the  Government  in  taxing  liquor- 
selling  so  utterly  out  of  proportion  to  other  trades 
is  either  guilty  of  the  most  high-handed  oppression 
or  the  basest  partnership  in  crime. 

"Yet  to-day  our  nation  halts  between  two  opin 
ions.  Shame  on  such  cowardly  vacillation!  Either 
the  business  is  a  legitimate  one  and  should  not  be 
taxed  at  all,  or  else  it  is  the  contrary  and  should  be 
prohibited  forever.  Better  that  our  law-givers  open 
ly  proclaim  the  rule  of  the  Drink  Moloch  than  to 
worship  him  in  secret.  Better  they  should  fling 
wide  open  the  doors  of  the  saloon  and  force  the 
question  to  an  issue.  In  the  name  of  justice,  of 
common  sense,  of  patriotism;  in  the  name  Of  ruined 
homes,  of  delicate  women  suffering  nameless  atroci 
ties,  of  children  crying  themselves  to  sleep  with  cold 
and  hunger,  of  the  thousands  who  fill  our  asylums 
and  poor-houses — sacrificed  between  the  two  mill 
stones  of  national  and  individual  greed,  give  the 
liquor  seller  his  rights!" 

Stephen  stood  erect  and  defiant.  He  felt  as  if  he 
would  not  have  minded  a  pistol  at  his  head.  He 
had  reached  that  height  of  spiritual  exaltation  where 
walk  the  souls  of  martyrs  palm-crowned.  He  would 
have  gladly  thrown  his  own  life  a  sacrifice  into  the 
chasm  of  this  awful  wrong. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  disturbance  some  of  the 
most  determined  among  the  temperance  men  fearing 
personal  violence  to  the  young  speaker,  had  forced 


A  Liquor  Mob.  367 

their  way  through  the  mob  to  the  platform  and 
made  a  kind  of  body  guard  around  him,  while  one 
or  two  of  the  more  timid  had  quietly  slipped  out 
and  applied  to  the  Mayor  for  police  to  quell  the  dis 
turbance.  The  mob  were  composed  mainly  of  bar 
room  loafers,  convenient  tools  for  the  saloon  and 
the  lodge;  but  they  quailed  before  these  evidences 
of  a  determination  to  preserve  order,  and  Stephen 
finished  his  address  in  comparative  quiet. 

As  may  be  imagined,  he  did  not  find  the  evening's 
exciting  scenes  a  good  preparation  for  sleep.  He 
still  occupied  the  same  office,  though  it  did  not  now 
look  so  bare  and  cell-like  as  when  we  first  showed  it 
to  the  reader.  He  had  indulged  himself  in  a  stu 
dent's  lamp  of  neat  and  chaste  design,  a  set  of  new 
law  books,  and  an  easy  chair  which  happened  to 
take  his  fancy  at  an  auction  sale  because  it  was  so 
like  one  which  at  home  always  occupied  a  certain 
corner  of  the  family  sitting-room,  and  had  been  his 
favorite  refuge  in  many  a  childish  trouble.  Instead 
of  directly  seeking  his  couch  he  threw  himself  into 
its  capacious  arms,  thinking  that  he  would  sit  there 
a  few  moments  and  enjoy  the  darkness,  and  silence, 
and  solitude.  A  soothed,  comforted,  restful  feeling 
began  to  creep  over  him.  The  scowling,  derisive 
faces  ceased  to  float  before  his  eyes,  the  tremor  of 
his  nerves  grew  still,  and  Stephen  at  last  fell  into  a 
sound  slumber,  from  which  he  was  suddenly  roused 
with  a  feeling  that  he  had  been  repeating  an  old  ad 
venture  of  his  boyhood,  when  one  night  in  driving 
home  the  cows  he  was  caught  in  a  thunder  storm. 


368  Between  Two  Opinions. 

But  as  he  recovered  from  his  bewilderment  he 
grew  conscious  that  it  was  a  real  sound  which  had 
awakened  him — the  firing  of  a  volley  of  shot  into 
his  office  window. 

He  hastily  turned  up  his  light.  The  pane  was 
shattered,  and  in  the  ceiling  directly  over  his  sleep 
ing  place  were  lodged  two  bullets.  Stephen  felt  a 
shivering  sense  of  awe.  Never  before  had  he  come 
so  near  to  touching  the  hand  of  a  protecting  Provi 
dence,  for  plainly  the  object  of  the  miscreants  who 
had  fired  the  bullets  was  assassination. 

The  outrage  caused,  as  was  natural, 'intense  ex 
citement,  but  as  it  had  been  planned  in  secret  con 
clave  by  members  of  the  Jacksonville  Legion,  bound 
by  oath  in  true  Masonic  style  to  keep  each  other's 
counsels,  the  perpetrators  were  never  discovered. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

THE  LEADER  ON  THE  WHITE  HORSE. 

The  bill  for  submitting  a  prohibitory  amendment 
to  the  people  stuck  hopelessly  in  its  passage  through 
the  Lower  House.  Legislators  trembling  under  the 
threats  of  the  autocratic  ruin  power  are  surpassingly 
fertile  in  ways  and  means  by  which  to  evade  the  de 
mands  of  temperance  constituents. 

But  the  W.  C.  T.  U.  again  set  up  their  banners  in 
the  name  of  the  Lord  for  "no  license"  in  Jackson 
ville.  Again  they  marched  to  the  polls  in  a  body  to 
beseige  the  hearts  and  consciences  of  the  voters,  and 
this  time  they  conquered.  Jacksonville  stood  com 
mitted  for  prohibition  by  a  large  majority  vote,  and 
a  band  of  rejoicing  women  gathered  in  the  churches 
to  sing  Te  Deums,  and  ofler  up  glad  thanksgivings 
from  a  full  heart,  only  one  thing  marring  the  joy  of 
the  victory — the  resignation  of  their  beloved  leader, 
Mrs.  Haviland. 

Physicians  had  at  last  told  her  that  she  must  quit 
her  life-work — that  she  was  sinking  under  a  mortal 
disease;  and  the  sweet  motherly  face,  with  its  silver 
curls,  was  missed  forever  from  their  counsels. 

It  was  all  clear  now  to  Martha — that  strangely  ex 
cited  manner,  that  wail  as  from  a  strong  heart 


370  Httween   Two   Opinions. 

breaking.  She  was  seeing  what  Martha  could  not 
see — a  shadowy  hand  beckoning  her  silently,  stead 
ily,  out  of  the  conflict  into  the  peace  everlasting. 

"Yes,  they  are  going,"  said  Martha  to  Nelson, 
with  a  trembling  lip,  "one  by  one.  But  the  ques 
tion  in  my  mind  is  not  whether  we  who  take  their 
places  will  be  more  devoted.  That  we  cannot  be. 
But  shall  we  be  wiser?  Will  the  time  come  when 
the  W.  C.  T.  (J.  will  see  that  the  lodge  has  been  all 
the  while  fighting  them  behind  masked  batteries?'' 

"I  don't  know,"  answered  Nelson.  "Rum  and 
secrecy  are  two  pretty  formidable  enemies  to  give 
battle  to  at  once." 

"Yes,  but  there's  no  help  for  it.  'One  war  at  a 
time'  is  a  maxim  that  sounds  very  well,  but  unfor 
tunately  you  and  I  have  been  born  in  an  exceptional 
age.  We  have  got  not  only  rum  and  the  lodge,  but 
infidelity,  Sabbath-breaking,  Mormonism,  and  ever 
so  many  other  tremendous  evils  to  battle  with,  not  a 
single  one  of  which  can  be  safely  let  alone." 

"Well, ".answered  Nelson,  "we  are  going  to  have 
a  contest  with  the  liquor  men  here  in  Jacksonville. 
This  has  been  their  stronghold  so  long  that  they  are 
perfectly  furious  and  determined  to  fight  the  law  at 
every  step.  That  outrage  on  Stephen  Rowland  was 
only  a  specimen  of  what  they  would  gladly  do  to 
others." 

"Yourself  included,  I  am  afraid." 

"Myself  included,  I  hope,"  said  Nelson  with  a 
laugh.  "You  surely  would  not  wish  me  to  have 
their  goodwill." 


The  Leader  on  the   White  Hone.  371 

Martha's  answering  smile  was  rather  grave,  for 
she  never  could  get  rid  of  a  haunting  fear  for  Nel 
son.  And  in  fact  at  that  very  moment  three  burly 
foreigners,  who  could  neither  read  nor  write,  were 
being  treated  to  divers  glasses  of  raw  whisky  in  a 
saloon  kept  by  a  member  of  the  Legion,  as  a  fit 
preparation  for  the  commission  of  a  dastardly  deed 
quite  worthy  of  the  two  dark  sources  with  which  it 
originated. 

The  votes  which  had  turned  the  scale  against  the 
liquor  party  in  the  last  election  were  cast  largely  by 
young  workmen  whom  Nelson  had  influenced  to 
come  out  on  the  prohibition  side.  Why  should  not 
the  saloonists  hate  and  fear  him?  That  they  cer 
tainly  did  almost  as  much  as  they  hated  and  feared 
Stephen  Rowland.  And  how  easy  to  make  a  few 
ignorant  foreigners  their  tools  of  vengeance  by  cram 
ming  them  with  stories  that  he  was  unfriendly  to 
his  own  class;  that  in  the  recent  strike  he  had  taken 
sides  against  the  laborer,  and  that  his  sympathies 
were  all  with  the  rich  aristocrats  and  monopolists. 

But  utterly  ignorant  of  any  trap  laid  for  his  feet 
Nelson  left  his  place  of  emplo3~ment  as  usual  to  find 
Martin  Tre worthy  waiting  for  him  outside  the  works. 
He  had  got  into  a  way  lately  of  doing  so,  alleging 
sometimes  that  he  wanted  the  walk,  and  sometimes 
that  he  wanted  a  conversation,  but  the  real  reason 
covered  by  the  excuse  was  in  a  certain  feeling  of  un 
easiness  in  Martin's  mind;  though  he  took  good  care 
not  to  let  Nelson  see  that  he  was  the  object  of  this 
peculiar  surveillance. 


372  Between   Two  Opinion*. 

"I  looked  over  the  prohibition  returns  this  noon 
as  I  was  eating  my  dinner,"  remarked  Nelson,  after 
starting  several  subjects  of  talk  and  not  getting 
much  reply,  for  Martin  seemed  unusually  abstracted 
and  silent.  "Take  the  country  at  large  and  the  gain 
over  last  year  is  wonderful.  At  this  rate  it  won't 
be  long  before  the  third  party  will  sweep  all  be 
fore  it." 

"You're  young,  lad,  you're  young,"  dryly  an 
swered  Martin. 

Nelson  laughed.  He  was  not  averse  to  being 
called  young,  even  if  in  his  old  friend's  mind  the  ex 
pression  stood  for  something  akin  to  verdancy.  He 
liked  to  feel  that  he  had  the  larger  half  of  his  life 
before  him.  It  always  gave  him  a  thrill  to  think 
that  he  was  standing  on  the  threshold  of  the  world's 
mightiest  conflicts,  with  forty,  or  even  perhaps  fifty, 
years  in  which  to  watch  the  unfolding  of  the  grand 
panorama. 

"I  tell  you,"  said  Martin,  his  eyes  kindling,  "this 
ain't  going  to  be  no  'ninety  days'  struggle.  Why, 
you  just  look  at  it  a  minute.  See  how  Satan  is  set- 
ting  the  battle  in  array,  and  do  you  think  he'll  run 
like  a  whipped  spaniel  at  the  first  fire?'' 

"Mr.  Treworthy,"  said  Nelson,  half  humorously, 
"you  are,  what  do  they  call  it,  a  pessimist?  You 
are  always  looking  at  the  dark  side  of  human  af 
fairs." 

"I  don't  daub  with  untempered  mortar,"  said  Mar 
tin,  bluntly.  "There's  enough  of  that  done  nowadays 
by  the  ministers  and  the  politicians." 


The  Leader  on  the   White  Horse.  373 

Nelson  relapsed  into  silence,  and  when  Martin 
spoke  again  it  was  in  a  slow  dreamy  fashion  almost 
as  if  talking  to  himself. 

"That's  a  grand  chapter  in  Revelations  now  about 
the  Leader  on  the  white  horse.  I  remember  read 
ing  it  first  in  camp — in  o.  pouring  rain,  chilled  to  the 
bone.  That  was  in  Kansas  before  the  war  begun, 
under  Capt  John  Brown.  Them  were  hard  times 
— to  see  the  ministers  and  churches  all  going  agin 
us,  and  the  government  joining  to  hunt  us  down. 
It  was  that  chapter  I  was  reading  when  the  Lord  re 
vealed  to  me  that  there  was  a  great  war  coming. 
And  it  did  come,  and  the  churches  and  ministers 
and  government  drank  the  cup  of  trembling  and 
astonishment.  And  now  the}"  are  doing  the  same 
thing  right  over,  upholding  and  petting  the  secret 
lodge  for  every  other  foul  thing  to  hide  behind. 
And  if  thej'  don't  take  warning  they'll  have  the 
same  cup  to  drink  again." 

Nelson  had  heard  Martin  Treworthy  talk  in  this 
way  before,  but  now  there  was  something  strangely 
solemn  in  his  manner.  He  was  about  to  reply  when 
he  heard  his  name  suddenl}"  called,  and  looked 
around. 

"Hold  on  a  minute!"  he  shouted,  thinking  it  was 
one  of  the  men  at  the  works  who  had  some  matter 
about  which  he  wished  to  speak  to  him. 

A  suspicion  crossed  his  mind  on  a  nearer  ap 
proach  that  he  might  be  mistaken  in  the  identity  of 
the  individual  addressing  him,  and  to  clear  up  his 
doubts  he  said,  inquiringly: 


374  Between  Two  Opinions. 

"It  is  you,  Mike?" 

In  the  darkness  he  failed  to  notice  the  other  fig 
ures  lurking  behind.  An  oath  answered  him,  and 
three  clubs,  wielded  by  the  three  stout  arms  that 
had  been  hired  by  the  saloon  and  urged  on  by  lodge 
vengeance,  descended  on  Nelson's  head  and  shoul 
ders. 

He  had  separated  from  Martin  Treworthy,  though 
the  latter  had  not  gone  on  but  was  quietly  waiting 
at  a  short  distance,  and  when  he  heard  the  execra 
tion  and  the  dull  thud  of  the  falling  blows,  he 
sprang  forward  and  bursting  into  the  ring  which 
surrounded  Nelson  received  himself  the  brutal  rain 
of  blows  and  kicks.  Martin  had  once  possessed  a 
strong  right  arm  of  his  own,  and  did  not  fully  real 
ize  how  his  rough  experience  on  Kansas  plains  and 
Southern  battle  fields  had  robbed  it  of  its  early 
vigor,  but  the  diversion  gave  Nelson  a  chance  to 
grapple  with  his  assailants  and  hold  his  own  till  help 
arrived  from  an  unexpected  source. 

The  assault  took  place  in  the  outskirts  of  the  city, 
where  there  were  few  passers-by  who  dared  to  inter 
fere.  Only  one  tall,  broad-shouldered,  muscular 
stranger  seemed  to  have  no  notion  of  waiting  the 
tardy  movements  of  the  police,  but  pitched  at  once 
into  the  melee  all  unarmed  as  he  was,  and  with  a 
few  skillful  blows  that  showed  pugilistic  training 
knocked  two  of  Nelson's  antagonists  hors  du  combat, 
and  held  the  other  with  firm  grip  till  the  officers  of 
the  law  came  up  and  relieved  him  of  his  prisoner. 

It  was  Peter  Snyder,  who  was  now  in  Jackson- 


The  Leader  on  the   White  Horse.  375 

ville  engaged  in  the  double  errand  of  looking  out 
for  some  stray  sheep  that  within  sound  of  a  dozen 
church  bells  still  persisted  in  straying,  while  nobody 
except  a  few  such  self-appointed  evangelists  as  he 
seemed  to  regard  it  as  particularly  their  business; 
and  negotiating  for  the  lease  of  his  old  saloon  which 
it  had  occurred  to  him  was  in  a  convenient  locality 
for  a  mission  that  he  proposed  starting.  He  had 
left  the  Salvation  Army.  Even  there  he  found  the 
same  difficulty  in  speaking  against  lodgery  that  be 
sets  the  regularly-ordained  minister  of  the  Gospel 
who  can  preach  against  rum  and  tobacco,  or  tying 
or  cheating,  and  everything  be  as  calm  as  a  summer 
sea,  while  the  least  adverse  allusion  to  secretism 
stirs  up  a  perfect  seething  whirlpool  of  angry  com 
motion;  and  he  had  finally  made  up  his  mind,  as  he 
expressed  it,  "to  serve  the*  Lord  on  his  own  hook." 

Nelson,  who  was  not  seriously  hurt,  though  some 
what  bruised  and  battered,  felt  too  great  an  anxiety 
for  Martin,  who  lay  insensible,  to  show  the  surprise 
he  might  have  otherwise  felt  when  we  recognized 
the  Gideon  who  had  so  providentially  appeared  for 
his  rescue. 

"I  guess  he'll  come  to  in  a  minute,"  said  Peter,  as 
he  made  rough  efforts  for  his  restoration.  "But 
them  were  hard  knocks  for  a  man  of  his  age  to 
take." 

Nelson  groaned  as  he  hung  over  the  prostrate 
form.  But  before  long  Martin  Treworthy  opened 
his  eyes  and  managed  to  stagger  to  his  feet,  and  to 
gether,  as  tenderly  as  two  sons  might  a  beloved 


376  Between   Two   Opinions. 

father,  they  assisted  him  to  his  own  domicile,  but  he 

fainted  away  when  they  reached  the  threshold. 

*•***#•*#•**# 

"I  am  all  right,  Martha.  It's  Mr.  Treworthy  that's 
got  the  worst  of  it.  We  must  see  to  him  now.  He 
has  fairly  given  his  life  for  mine." 

And  Martha,  to  whom  the  tidings  had  come  that 
Nelson  had  been  struck  down  by  saloon  ruffians  and 
nearly  killed — and  to  whom  for  an  instant  that  took 
in  a  whole  lifetime  of  buried  hopes  and  sweet 
womanly  joys  which  might  never  come  to  the  blos 
soming,  everything  had  seemed  to  spin  around  in 
one  dizzy  vortex  of  anguish — knelt  down  by  Mar 
tin's  bedside  and  kissed  his  rough  hand  with  sobs. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Treworthy,  you  must  get  well  for  our 
sakes." 

Martin  smiled. 

"Supposing  Nelson  had  been  killed,  had  you 
rather — now  think  well — would  3^ou  ruther  he'd  been 
indifferent  to  the  rum  business,  as  so  many  folks 
are,  and  so  saved  his  life?" 

"No,"  said  Martha,  with  white  lips.  "If  the  mar 
tyr's  crown  was  waiting  for  him  I  wouldn't  be  the 
woman  to  keep  him  from  it." 

"Then  look  here  a  bit.  I  reckon  the  woman  I 
should  have  married,  if  she'd  lived,  and  that  I  have 
been  married  to  in  my  soul  these  twenty-five  years, 
would  have  said  the  same  thing." 

"I  think  she  would,"  responded  Martha.  She 
bent  her  head  and  kissed  his  hand  again,  and  this 
time  there  came  over  her  a  strange  feeling  as  if  for 


The  Leader  on  the   White  Horse.  377 

the  moment,  there  had  been  a  sense  of  spiritual  kin 
ship  and  communion  between  her  and  Martin  Tre- 
worthy's  early  love — the  fair-haired  girl  who  had 
slept  so  quietly  for  a  quarter  of  a  century  under  her 
low  prairie  mound. 

But  there  was  another  to  whom  the  tidings  came 
in  an  exaggerated  form,  and  that  was  Dora  Derning. 

She  had  not  quite  forgotten  her  brother  Nelson — 
how  tender  and  careful  he  used  to  be  of  his  little 
sister  in  the  years  of  his  over-grave  boyhood.  A 
great  change  had  passed  over  Dora  since  that  sum 
mer  day  of  awful  experience.  Dacey's  death,  the 
wa}r  in  which  he  had  swindled  the  grange,  and  its 
utter  and  hopeless  collapse  in  consequence,  together 
with  many  unsavory  details  of  his  former  career 
now  brought  to  the  light,  had  been  the  talk  for  days  in 
circles  wider  than  their  immediate  neighborhood; 
but  no  one  dreamed  of  the  brink  of  ruin  on  which 
Dora  had  so  carelessly  sported.  It  was  all  a  secret 
between  herself  and  God.  Perhaps  in  the  .years  to 
come,  with  her  grandchildren  about  her  knees,  when 
the  wonder  and  terror  had  faded  out  of  her  lire  and 
left  her  only  the  memory  of  the  deliverance,  she 
might  tell  them  the  story  for  a  warning.  But  now 
the  very  thought  of  it  made  her  shudder  with  a  kind 
of  nightmare  horror  as  one  might  shudder  remem 
bering  an  incautious  footfall  on  the  sheer  edge  of 
some  bottomless  abyss. 

"Mother, "  she  said,  after  sitting  a  moment  in  si 
lence  with  white  cheeks  and  a  great  yearning  at  her 
heart,  "I  wish  I  could  see  him— just  once." 

' 

• 


378  Between  Two  Opinions. 

"Well,  child;  I  don't  know  why  you  shouldn't," 
returned  Mrs.  Deming.  "He  is  your  own  brother." 

And  so  the  very  thing  came  about  in  the  most 
natural  way  in  the  world  for  which  Martha  had 
longed  and  sometimes  even  prayed — that  she  might 
see  Nelson's  sister — she  had  none  of  her  own — and 
get  acquainted  with  her. 

Martha,  like  most  plain  women,  loved  beauty,  and 
her  heart  went  out  at  once  to  the  sweet  girlish  face 
that  looked  up  at  her  with  such  beseeching  entreaty. 

"Tell  me!"  gasped  Dora.  "Is  he  dead,  my  brother 
Nelson?" 

"No;  he  is  alive  and  well.  You  were  told  wrong. 
It  was  Mr.  Treworthy,  an  old  friend  of  his,  that  was 
badly  hurt  in  trying  to  defend  him.  I  have  often 
heard  Nelson  speak  of  his  sister  Dora.  He  will  be 
glad  to  see  you." 

"I  heard  of  it  only  this  morning,"  said  Dora,  with 
quivering  lip.  "It  seems  so  dreadful." 

"It  is  dreadful,"  answered  Martha,  taking  Dora's 
little,  soft,  clinging  hand  in  her's.  Martha's  hands 
were  not  very  small,  but  there  was  power  and  char 
acter  in  every  fibre.  They  were  the  kind  that  Joan 
of  Arc  might  have  had,  or  any  of  those  heroic 
women  of  our  early  history  who  could  rock  a  cradle 
or  shoulder  a  musket.  "It  is  the  same  dreadful 
thing  that  has  been  going  on  so  long.  Only  now  it 
has  come  a  little  nearer.  We  grow  callous.  We 
read  of  rum's  doings  in  every  paper  we  take  up  till 
it  gets  to  be  an  old  story.  We  women  who  lead 
such  peaceful  happy  lives  need  to  have  it  brought 


The  Leader  on  the.   White  Horse.  379 

home  to  us  once  in  a  while  so  that  we  may  feel  as 
we  ought  for  other  women.  Don't  you  think  so?" 

Dora  knew  vaguely  that  her  father  had  been  a 
drinking  man,  and  they  had  all  been  very  poor  and 
wretched  in  consequence,  but  she  was  too  }'oung  at 
the  time  to  retain  any  bitter  personal  recollections. 
She  had  not  meant  to  be  hard  and  unfeeling  when 
in  her  bright,  careless  way  she  had  protested 
that  "such  things  didn't  concern  her  anyway;"  she 
had  only  been  a  butterfly  happy  in  her  painted 
wings  and  caring  nothing  for  the  worm  crushed  un 
der  foot.  Something  in  Martha's  face  impelled  her 
to  be  frank. 

"I  have  not  been  interested  in  temperance — much. 
I  have  been  selfish,  I  am  afraid,  but  I  wish  I  could 
help  put  down  this  dreadful  drinking." 

Impulsively  Martha  took  off  the  bow  of  white 
ribbon  that  she  wore  and  pinned  it  to  Dora's  dress. 

"Then  we  are  doubly  sisters,  for  now  you  belong 
to  the  white  ribbon  ranks  as  well  as  I,"  she  said. 
"We  will  work  and  pray  together,  can  we  not?  And 
oh,  Dora!  can't  you  love  me  just  a  little?  I  have 
always  wanted  a  sister  so." 

Dora's  cheeks  flushed,  and  then  with  a  little  cry 
she  put  her  arms  around  Martha's  neck,  and  clasped 

together  in  that  close  embrace  Nelson  found  them. 

*#-*-**###-## 

Though  there  were  a  few  days  in  which  it  seemed 
as  if  Martin  Treworthy's  natural  vigor  of  constitu 
tion  might  re-assert  itself,  he  had  no  such  thought. 

One  night  when  Nelson  was  watching  by  his  side, 


380  Between   Two   Opinions. 

Martin  seemed  to  rouse  suddenly  from  a  stupor  and 
spoke  his  name  with  sudden,  eager  earnestness. 

"Nelson,  in  my  tin  box  on  the  shelf  you'll  find  a 
paper  that'll  tell  you  what  I  want  done  with  what  I 
leave  behind.  And  there's  one  thing — two  things 
you  must  promise  me." 

"Anything  within  the  bounds  of  possibility,  my 
dear  old  friend,"  said  Nelson,  with  a  choking  voice. 

Martin  raised  himself  up  and  his  eyes  gleamed 
with  the  fire  of  other  days. 

"You  said  a  year  ago  you  could  see  no  hurt  in 
the  lodge.  Do  you  see  any  now?" 

"I  see  a  world  of  Satanic  mischief,"  responded 
Nelson,  emphatically.  "Fighting  slavery  taught  you 
to  hate  it.  Fighting  rum  has  taught  me." 

"Then  take  my  place  when  I  step  out  of  the 
ranks.  My  life  has  been  a  rough  one,  but  I  can't 
say  I  hain't  enjoyed  it.  I  come  of  fighting  stock. 
There  was  a  Tre worthy  fell  with  Wolfe  on  the  plains 
of  Abraham;  but  my  battle  for  the  slave  was  a 
grander  one  than  his.  God  grant  that  your's  may 
be  a  grander  one  than  mine.  For  I'm  going,  my 
boy,  and  you  mustn't  mourn  for  me  nor  feel  bad — 
you  nor  Martha.  There's  only  one  thing  more. 
When  I.  am  gone  lay  me  by  the  side  of  her" 

He  said  no  more  for  a  long  time.  Suddenly  he 
raised  his  head  and  exclaimed  joyfully,  "I  see  Him 
— the  Leader  on  the  white  horse."  And  with  his 
eyes  riveted  on  that  wondrous  vision,  the  man 
whose  greatest  earthly  pride  was  that  he  had  once 
fought  under  John  Brown  went  to  join  his  captain. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

THE    CONCLUSION    OF    THE    MATTER. 

A  story,  like  a  human  life,  must  draw  to  its  con 
clusion  some  time,  and  as  very  little  remains  to  be 
said  regarding  the  fortunes  of  the  characters  with 
whom  we  have  traveled  thus  far,  we  will  proceed  to 
the  inevitable  winding  up. 

Martha  and  Nelson  stand  in  the  front  of  the  great 
est  moral  conflict  the  world  has  ever  seen.  It  rages 
hot  and  heavy,  a  battle  all  along  the  line.  They,  no 
less  than  the  old  anti-slavery  reformers,  live  in  a 
time  that  tries  men's  souls. 

•  The  paper  in  Martin  Treworthy's  tin  box  made 
Nelson  sole  heir  to  his  bit  of  city  property,  and 
paved  his  way  for  the  purchase  of  what  is  now  one 
of  the  best  farms  in  the  State.  And  in  the  hermit 
age,  moved  to  more  congenial  surroundings,  they 
spent  the  first  years  of  their  married  life,  which 
were  gladdened  by  the  advent  of  a  little  Martin  Tre- 
worth}T  Newhall;  and  even  when  fortune  prospered 
them  and  they  built  a  new  and  commodious  resi 
dence,  they  still  sacredly  preserved  it,  converting  it 
into  a  kind  of  summer-house  half  hid  with  creeping 
vines.  And  if  the  reader  visits  it  once  more,  as  we 
now  invite  him  to,  he  will  find  the  settee  and  the 


382  Between   Two   Opinions. 

leathern  armchair  in  their  old  places;  even  the  pot 
of  ivy  and  the  vases  of  dried  grass  which  Martha  is 
at  the  present  moment  engaged  in  arranging.  Nel 
son  is  watching  one  of  the  most  glorious  of  summer 
sunsets,  and  as  the  radiant  level  beams  convert  the 
broad  acres  of  wheat  into  a  living  lake  of  emerald, 
he  hums  softly, 

"Green  fields  beyond  the  swelling  flood." 

Martha  came  and  stood  behind  her  husband. 

"It  is  almost  like  a  bit  of  the  New  Jerusalem  let 
down  to  earth,"  she  said. 

"It  makes  me  think  of  Tom,"  he  answered. 

Martha's  only  reply  was  to  lean  her  cheek  on  his 
shoulder,  and  they  stood  thus  together  for  several 
moments  in  silence. 

Nelson  had  not  forgotten  Tom,  but  though  he  had 
lost  a  brother  he  had  found  a  sister.  On  the  princi 
ple  of  the  attraction  of  opposites,  Dora  had  con 
ceived  for  Martha  that  passionate  attachment  which 
a  weaker  nature  often  shows  for  a  stronger  one. 
She  is  happily  married  to  one  of  the  worthiest  of 
her  farmer  suitors,  consults  Martha  in  all  household 
difficulties  with  even  more  freedom  than  her  ener 
getic  mother,  and  bids  fair  to  develop  into  a  model 
of  a  young  American  matron. 

"Judge  Howland!  this  is  an  unexpected  pleasure," 
exclaimed  Nelson  and  Martha  both  in  delighted  uni 
son,  as  a  visitor  suddenly  makes  his  appearance — a 
tall,  fine-looking  man,  whose  decidedly  familiar 
features  convince  us  that  it  is  indeed  Stephen  How- 
land,  now  privileged  to  write  Judge  before  his  name, 


Conclusion  of  the  Matter.  383 

and  one  of  the  foremost  political  leaders  in  the 
great  party  of  national  reform. 

That  Puritan  couple  have  to-day  no  occasion  to  be 
ashamed  of  the  Daniel  they  have  given  their  coun 
try — and  here  pardon  us  one  moment's  digression. 
There  is  much  bemoaning  nowadays  over  the  loss  of 
the  old  spirit  of  integrity  that  characterized  our  fore 
fathers,  but  if  we  would  have  sons  of  the  Puritans 
filling  again  our  legislative  halls  and  judicial  benches 
there  is  one  way,  and  only  one  wa}*,  by  which  it  can 
be  accomplished — restore  again  the  Puritan  home. 

"Business  took  me  in  this  direction,"  responded 
Judge  Rowland,  as  he  shook  hands  with  his  old 
client;  "and  I  could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  turn 
aside  and  congratulate  you  on  what  I  presume  is  no 
news.  I  hear  your  name  prominently  mentioned  as 
candidate  for  a  seat  in  the  next  legislature." 

Martha's  cheeks  flushed  with  fond  pride  as  she 
looked  at  her  husband,  who  answered  quietly: 

"My  highest  desire  is  to  be  worthy  of  the  honor. 
Then  1  can  bear  success  or  defeat  with  equal  com 
posure.  But  I  want  to  know,  Judge  Rowland,  if 
you  have  any  idea  of  the  cause  of  your  failure  to  be 
re-elected  last  fall." 

"Yes,  I  have,"  slowly  responded  the  Judge, 
"though  I  may  not  be  acquainted  with  all  the  facts. 
I  know  my  enemies  got  up  a  malicious  story  of 
bribery  on  my  part,  and  one  man  even  swore  to  my 
giving  him  a  large  sum  of  money  to  buy  up  votes 
with — a  sum  larger  than  my  whole  personal  estate. 
The  story  was  purposely  started  nigh  on  the  eve  of 


384  Between    Two  Opinion*. 

the  election  so  as  to  give  me  no  time  to  deny  it  till 
it  had  done  its  work  in  defeating  me.  Masons  and 
Odd-fellows  were  the  originators  and  propagators  of 
the  whole  ridiculous  charge.  A  public  man,  as  soon 
as  he  displeases  Masonry,  is  politically  doomed." 

"Well,  now,"  said  Nelson,  "what  is  to  become  of 
the  country  when  the  reputation  of  no  candidate  for 
public  office  is  safe;  when  be  must  fall  down  and 
worship  before  the  brazen  image  of  the  lodge,  or  be 
cast  into  a  fiery  furnace  of  cowardly  defamation  and 
slander?" 

"I  don't  know  unless  the  moral  sense  of  the  na 
tion  awakes  to  what  is  now  the  real  Question  of  the 
Hour.  That  question  is  not  so  much  whether  we 
shall  put  down  this  or  that  great  evil — not  even  in 
temperance,  blasting,  gigantic  iniquity  though  it  be, 
but  whether  Christ  shall  rule  our  nation  through 
Christian  rulers,  or  Satan  through  the  godless  secret 
lodges.  I  do  not  mean  to  belittle  the  other  great 
issues  which  are  pressing  upon  us,  but  I  do  assert 
that  this  is  the  one  grand  issue  which  contains  all 
others  as  in  a  nutshell.  I  do  not  wonder  that  men 
seeing  the  tremendous  amount  of  misery  and  woe 
wrought  by  the  saloon,  and  not  seeing  how  this  se 
cret,  irresponsible  lodge  power  backs  up  that  and 
every  other  evil,  should  think  the  temperance  ques 
tion  the  most  important.  But  how  long  is  it  since 
a  Masonic  clerk,  by  neglecting  to  record  the  minutes 
of  the  Constitutional  Amendment  passed  in  this 
State,  killed  all  the  hopes  of  the  temperance  men 
and  women  who  had  labored  so  untiringly  for  its 


Conclusion  of  the  Matter.  385 

passage?  How  often  the  County  Commissioners 
and  Excise  boards  are  Masons  standing  in  fraternal 
relations  to  the  rum  power?  How  often  liquor 
cases  are  tried  and  juries  fail  to  convict  because 
there  is  a  secret  understanding  with  a  Masonic  judge 
or  attorney?  How  man3T  cases  are  put  off  on  a  friv 
olous-pretext  and  never  tried  at  all  for  the  same  rea 
son?  Temperance  men  and  women  must  wake  up 
to  these  things;  they  are  waking.  This  grand  party 
of  Christian  reform  which  has  risen  up  to  combat 
their  secret  enemy  bears  the  destiny  of  the  Ameri 
can  race  in  its  bosom  over  our  stormy  political 
waters  as  the  Ma}*flower  bore  the  seed  for  the  na 
tion's  planting:  and  its  platform  embodies  lessons 
experience  has  been  teaching  them  through  years  of 
disappointment  and  frustrated  hopes,  and  which 
once  learned  can  never  be  unlearned." 

Nelson  was  thinking  of  Martin  Tre worthy,  who 
would  have  so  rejoiced  in  this  new  party  but  died 
without  the  sight. 

Judge  Howland  paused  a  moment,  and  then  he 
said  with  slow  and  solemn  emphasis: 

"  'HOW  LONG  HALT  YE    BETWEEN    TWO    OPI.VIONS?' 

— that  is  the  question  God  is  asking  the  American 
nation  to-day." 

THE    END. 


APPENDIX. 


CHAPTER  II.  Page  13.— The  qualifications  required 
are  that  the  candidate  must  be  a  free,  white  man, 
twenty-one  years  of  age,  of  good  moral  character  and 
sound  health,  and  a  believer  in  the  Supreme  Being,  the 
Maker  and  Ruler  of  the  Universe. — Donaldson's  Odd 
fellow's  Pocket  Companion,  p.  19. 

Chinese,  Polynesians,  Indians,  half-breeds  or  mixed 
bloods  are  not  eligible  to  membership. — Ibid,  p.  320. 

CHAPTER  V.  Page  57. — Another  movement  which 
lost  us  the  active  co-operation  of  thousands  of  excel 
lent  and  able  men  was  the  substitution  of  close  for 
open  organizations.  Prior  to  the  formation  of  the 
order  of  the  Sons  of  Temperance  all  our  public  meet 
ings  were  opened  to  the  world.  *  *  *  Seven-eighths 
of  our  weekly  temperance  meetings  now  are  held  in 
private  rooms.  Few  of  fche  aged  are  there  to  give  the 
proceedings  the  dignity  and  gravity  which  their  pres 
ence  generally  confers,  and  the  children  are  left  at 
home ;  and  worst  of  all,  the  drinking  portion  of  the 
community,  the  very  portion  which  we  wish  to  influ 
ence  by  our  arguments  and  appeals  are  excluded. 
They  have  not  the  password.  *  *  *  Those  petty 
rivalries  which  are  now  frequently  occurring  between 
the  different  orders  where  they  exist  in  the  same  com 
munity,  and  often  between  subordinate  and  neighbor 
ing  organizations  of  the  same  order;  and  those  un- 
brotherly  strifes  for  office  and  honors  which  too  often 
occur  now,  were  unknown  in  the  open  organizations, 


APPENDIX.  387 

absolutely  unknown.  *  *  *  In  less  than  fifteen 
years  the  style  of  operations  I  have  described  [open 
temperance  work]  so  far  revolutionized  the  public 
opinion  of  Massachusetts  that  the  license  system  was 
abolished  in  more  than  three-fourths  of  the  counties 
of  the  State.  The  old  style  of  operating  gave  place  in 
the  years  1840,  '41  and  '42  to  the  Washingtonian  sys 
tem,  and  that  very  soon  to  the  Sons  of  Temperance 
and  other  forms  of  close  organization,  and  they  have 
had  the  field  almost  exclusively  for  over  twenty-five 
years ;  and  what  is  the  present  status  of  temperance 
in  that  State  as  compared  with  what  it  was  in  1843  ? 
It  may  be  doubted  whether  we  are  stronger  at  the 
polls  now  [1872]  than  we  were  twenty-five  years  ago. 
For  myself  I  believe  that  had  the  work  of  reform  been 
prosecuted  for  the  last  twenty-five  years  in  Xew  Eng 
land  in  open  organizations  with  such  added  provision 
as  experience  might  have  suggested,  the  liquor  traffic 
could  have  been  crushed  before  the  public  attention 
could  have  been  diverted  from  that  issue  by  the  great 
struggle  for  the  preservation  of  the  Union. — Dr.  Chas. 
JeioeWs  Forty  Years'  Fight  with  the  Drink  Demon. 

CHAPTER  VIII.  Page  123.— What  regeneration  by 
the  word  of  truth  is  in  religion,  initiation  is  in  Odd- 
fellowship. — Grosh's  Manual,  p.  90. 

It  was  a  leading  characteristic  of  all  the  ancient 
rites  that  they  began  in  sorrow  and  gloom,  but  ended 
in  light  and  joy. — Ibid. 

This  internal,  truly  living,  spirit  of  Love  and  univer 
sal  fraternity,  pervading  all  our  rites  and  ceremonies; 
*  *  this  soul  of  all  its  teachings  and  workings  is 
Odd-fellowship,  the  hidden  name  in  the  white  stone 
which  he  knoweth  best  who  most  truly  possesses  it. — 
Hid,  p.  78. 

CHAPTER  XXII.  Page  273— Flora,  the  goddess  of 
flowers  and  gardens  among  the  Romans,  the  same  as 
the  Chicles  of  the  Greeks.  Some  suppose  that  she  was 


388  APPENDIX. 

originally  a  common  courtesan  who  had  left  to  the 
Romans  the  immense  riches  which  she  had  acquired 
by  prostitution  and  lasciviousness,  in  remembrance  of 
which  a  yearly  festival  was  instituted  in  her  honor  — 
Lempriere's  Classical  Dictionary. 

CHAPTER  XXIII.  Page  286.— The  case  of  Jacob 
Strycker  is  given  for  an  instance  related  by  Eev.  Mr. 
Brockman,  and  recorded  in  the  minutes  of  the  State 
Grand  Lodge  of  Pennsylvania  for  the  year  1871,  p.  486. 

John  Kandolph  professed  to  have  found  that  the  phi 
losopher's  stone  consisted  simply  in  these  four  words : 
"Pay  as  you  go."  But  an  Odd-fellow  will  more  surely 
find  it  in  the  three  words :  "Pay  in  advance" — Grosh's 
Manual,  p.  192. 

In  a  perfect  financial  system  of  dues  and  benefits 
there  is  no  place  for  charity ;  and  every  dollar  taken 
from  the  sick  fund  for  mere  charity  is  robbery  of  that 
fund. — Jour.  Proceedings  Supreme  Grand  Lodge,  Ses 
sion  0/1880,  p.  8213. 

P.  G.  M.  Joseph  Gardiner  gives  officially  the  total  re 
ceipts  for  the  thirty-nine  years  of  existence  of  the 
Grand  Encampment  of  N.  H.  Odd-fellows,  $121,896.90; 
"total  relief  of  Patriachs,"  widows,  etc.,  $31,124.31. 
Thus  it  would  seem  that  this  charitable  society  gets  to 
its  beneficiaries  a  trifle  over  one-quarter  of  its  receipts. 
— Christian  Witness. 

According  to  a  report  of  the  work  of  the  Odd-fel 
lows  for  1883,  they  paid  out  during  that  year  $2,015,- 
832.52,  while  they  collected  $5,350,181.24. 

CHAPTER  XXVI.  Page  818.— Lodges  cannot  abridge 
the  liberty  of  the  citizen,  nor  dictate  to  him  what  he 
shall  eat  or  what  he  shall  drink.  All  good  Odd-fel 
lows  despise  as  such  the  abuse  of  intoxicating  drinks, 
and  in  "their  war  against  vice"  they  look  upon  drunk 
enness  as  incompatible  with  every  principle  of  the 
Order.  But  neither  will  the  laws  nor  the  principles  of 
Odd-fellowship  descend  to  the  restriction  or  the  regu- 


APPENDIX.  389 

lation  of  the  beverage  of  its  members.—  White's  Digest, 
Art.  975. 

While  temperance  is  a  cardinal  principle  of  the  order 
and  must  be  observed,  they  will  not  attempt  to  en 
force  total  abstinence,  a  principle  never  intended  by 
the  framers  to  be  engrafted  on  our  order.— 1849,  Jour 
nal. 


THE 


Christian  Cynosure! 

A   LARGE    SIXTEEN-PAGE 

WEEKLY  REFORM  JOURNAL, 

OPPOSED  TO  SECRET  SOCIETIES. 


VERY  Christian  and  every  patriot  needs  the  CHRISTIAN 
CYNOSURE.  In  these  days  of  journalistic  competition 
this  is  a  broad  assertion  ,  but  we  believe  it  is  true,  for  the 
following  among  other  reasons  • 

1.  Because  it  is  the  only  paper  adapted  to  general  ^circula 
tion  having  the  special  object  of  opposition  to  organized 
secrecy.    Besides  the  ablest  editorial,  contributed  and  selected 
articles  weekly  upon  this  topic,  which  is  of  more  than  national 
importance,  it  also  has  interesting  sketches  of  progress  and 
incidents  from  the  reform  lecturers  in  all  parts  of  the  country, 
reform  news  and  notes,  letters  from  the  Old  World,  etc.,  etc. 
It  is  the  especial  organ  of  this  movement  in  America  —  a  move 
ment  which  is  sustained  by  the  utterances  of  some  of  the 
ablest  statesmen  and  divines  whom  the  country  has  produced. 
Every  person  interested  in  either  the  family,  government,  or 
religion  —  the  most  sacred  interests  of  humanity  —  is  directly 
affected  by  secret  societies,   and  needs  to  keep  posted  in  this 
movement. 

2.  Because  it  is  uncompromisingly  right  on  ALL  questions  of 
the  day.    On  temperance,  tobacco,  Sabbath  desecration,  Mpr- 
monism,  the   Southern   and    Indian    questions,    civil-service 
reform,  monopolies,  the  rights  of  labor,  and  every  other  ques 
tion,  its  only  aim  is  to  be  RIGHT  and  advocate  the  TRUTH. 
It  is  hence  FEARLESS  and  OUTSPOKEN 

3.  Because  politically  it  emphasizes  the  fact  that  an  en 
lightened  conscience  should  reign  in  political  as  in  all  other 
affairs.    It  supports  the  American  party  as  the  best  embodi 
ment  of  correct  political  principles.    It  exposes  the  lodge- 
bound  chicanery  and  corruption  of  the  old  parties. 

4.  Because  in  addition  to  these  features,  it  contains  a  choice 
selection  of  wholesome  reading  for  the  family,  from  oldest  to 
youngest,  with  religious  and  secular  news,  market  reports, 
etc.,  etc.    It  is  thoroughly  Christian,  but  entirely  undenomi 
national.    It  is  owned  by  and  is  the  organ  of  the  National 
Christian  Association. 

$2.  per  Year,  Post-Paid  ;  Clubs  of  Ten,  $1  5,  and  a  copy  free  to  sender. 
Every  friend  of  reform  is  appealed  to,  to  aid  in  spreading 
needed  truth  by  sending  in  his  own  subscription  and  those  of 
friends.  Sample  copies,  subscription  blanks  or  any  desired 
information  regarding  publications,  free  on  application. 

•W.    I.    3E»XXXXjX*XFS..    Fublishery 

221  West  Madison  Street,  CHICAGO,  ILL, 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED  j 

LOAN  DEPT. 

RENEWALS  ONLY—TEL.  NO.  642-3405 
This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recalL 


O> 


, 


FEB1Q7Q-1ZM 


UOAN 


BAR  3 11970 


LD2lA-60m-6,'69 


(J9096slO)476-A-32 


General  Library 

University  of  California 

Berkeley 


YB  06524 


^p 

mM 


